Thicker Than Blood
by Kyarei
Summary: Years of negligence has corroded Sasuke’s mental stability, leaving him depressive and unmotivated. When he begins to turn to drugs as an escape, Itachi finally sees that he must step in, before it’s too late. Incest. Yaoi. Lemons.
1. Prologue

Thicker Than Blood

~Prologue~

~~~*~~~

Things aren't always the way they seem. Perfect family images, the twisted perceptions of society, the unforgiving silence that fills the room and deafens you.

The way you need that silence in order to breathe.

My brother saved me. A long time ago, he rescued me from myself. The demon that had possessed me and whispered words like _die_ and _fall_ into the deepest parts of my mind, haunted me day and night. But Itachi didn't care. He wasn't afraid of the demon like I was.

He wasn't scared to hear it whispering in his ears – in his _mind_. Unlike me.

If it made one more sound, one more whisper, my world would crumble. Fall apart, cease to exist. Just like me. I would fall apart, too. I would vanish. Maybe my world and my mind are the same thing. My soul, my very existence; a mere perception of a false reality.

_These unclear thoughts are what drove me to consider the __**Amphetamine **__in the first place._

_The whispering voice that told me to die. It turned me into this._

But Itachi saved me, you see. I watched him. I watched him stand up to the _father_ that terrified me. I watched him work himself to exhaustion every day to provide for _me_. I watched him return from studying abroad and, without any sort of forewarning, watched him bury our mother.

And the demon that had long tormented me; the one that had stalked me every day of my young life and filled my mind with nothing but thoughts of suicide and escape – Itachi killed it. It took a long time. And sometimes I think that struggle, on Itachi's part, killed him too.

But I was long past feeling guilt and regret. I had many things to regret. Many things to grieve. Much to feel guilty over.

I warned Itachi.

I told him to save himself. To not get involved.

"Don't do it," I told him. "Don't risk yourself for my sake. Don't waste your life."

"_I won't," _he said. _"because unless you're with me, my life is a waste."_

He said we'd make it out together.

Because he was my brother. Because I was his brother.

Brothers.

Friends.

_Lovers._

Itachi was all I had left.

I lost my mother.

I lost Naruto.

Father was _never_ mine.

I hadn't wanted Itachi. I hadn't wanted any of them. I wanted to be left alone, with my miserable thoughts.

_With the demon and it's whispering voice. The voice that raped my mind. The voice that took everything from me._

_Comforting me and killing me with the same silent voice. The same words that were always unsaid._

Because somehow, that voice was the only one that understood how I felt. The only one that knew myself. It knew me, knew my desires. Knew my suffering.

Itachi knew nothing of this.

He was free. He had a chance.

He was in school overseas when Mother started taking the medication. When Father started drinking. When the voice started whispering to me in my dreams, keeping me from sleeping. And then it followed me into my daydreams, too.

He wasn't there for any of it.

_He should have stayed away._

I remember waking up in the hospital. I remember Itachi walking in, looking at me.

"_Sasuke,"_ he said.

"Take me home." I told him. "I want to go home."

"_I can't do that," _he said again.

Take me home.

"I want to go home."

Don't keep me here.

"Let me out."

Don't lock me away.

"Take me home, _now_!"

I don't know this place.

"_Sasuke—"_

"TAKE ME HOME, ITACHI!"

We went home after that. I realized what I had done. I was always aware of how I was _killing_ my brother. He was sacrificing everything for my sake. He worked a job he hated, long hours and unpleasant co-workers, gave up the education he had gone overseas to pursue, and spent every waking moment trying to keep me from overdosing on any drug I could grasp.

He was doing all this for me.

So in return for sacrificing everything, I gave him the thing the only thing I could offer.

My body.

Itachi didn't see it this way, of course. He had his own perceptions of why I let him do what he did. Like _love_.

"You don't care that it's wrong? What we're doing?"

"_We're in love, Sasuke. Love isn't wrong."_

I didn't care if he lied to me. I was using him. And he was using me. He didn't know that he was using me, though. He felt guilty for leaving me with our insane parents. He felt guilty for the chance at something better that he had been given. He felt guilty.

That's why he was giving me his everything; his chance. That's why he worked until he collapsed every single day. He called it love, but I knew better. He wanted to atone. Itachi didn't love me. He was just too self-righteous to admit that his true intentions were detrimental to everything around us.

But I felt guilty, too. I felt guilty that the _gift_ he had been given was being wasted on me. So I gave him my body. A gift for a gift. A future for an asset. The thing I needed for the thing he wanted.

This was more than just a simple trade between us. We were relieving our mental instabilities.

We were using each other.

Nothing more.

To the eyes of an outsider, this relationship might seem as depraved and immoral as they come. But we didn't care. _I_ didn't care. If I could make the whispering voice stop, I didn't care if I had to become more depraved than it was.

In the two years I spent with my brother since his homecoming, I learned the true meaning of the word '_family_'. Blood-relatives. The people in your life whom you are _obligated _to love.

_Blood is thicker than water._

But the bond between Itachi and I is thicker than blood.

~~~*~~~

**Authors Note: **Hello, darlings! Well, this is one of two of my new stories. I hope you enjoyed the prologue. Just to clear up any confusion, these are Sasuke's thoughts at the end of the story. None of these events have happened yet. And he jumps around quite a bit here. Also, the drug _amphetamine _is an illegal street drug that has several 'street names'. To sum it up in a nutshell, it's a lot like _speed_ and _acid_. Very bad. If you want specific details, your good friend Wikipedia will surely assist you. :D


	2. Let Me Introduce You to Death

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter One – Let me introduce you to Death~

~~~*~~~

Our house was always silent. That's why we didn't let people come over. We needed our silence.

Father woke up in early mornings, went to work, came home, went to his study, and drank to a stupor.

Mother woke up after I went to school, obsessively cleaned the house, occasionally went shopping when we needed groceries, then laid on the couch in the living room, staring at nothing.

She never cooked. I never ate. Father never ate anything she cooked. She didn't eat, either.

I didn't really sleep, either. I rested. There was a difference. I daydreamed through the night until the evil shrill disturbance of my alarm clock 'woke' me. I didn't sleep.

Father never came out of his study. Never looked at us. Never spoke to us.

Mother never said more than a few words, never spared more than a pitiful glance. Her medication made her drowsy; that was the problem. I liked her better before, when she was depressed. At least she _felt something._

But now she was nothing but a hallow shell. She didn't feel anything, didn't care about anything. Just sat there, staring. Mind blank. I liked it better when she was always crying. I didn't like seeing her sad, but at least she looked human. She was still my mother when she was depressed.

Father never gave a damn about either of us. His job was stressful and it turned him into an alcoholic. I wasn't the son he loved. She wasn't the woman he married.

Itachi, on the other hand, _was_ his family.

But Itachi was gone. Overseas, studying in America at the finest boarding university he could find. Father paid the costs, even though it was more expensive than our own house. Anything for _his son_.

We weren't exactly wealthy. We had money, yes, and nice things too. But we didn't consider ourselves rich. Mainly because Father had two greedy parents and an incompetent brother to support. And he was more intimidated by them than I was of him.

The three of us, in this big house, we all kept to ourselves.

That's why it was always silent. No communication. No problems. No anything.

Though by textbook standards, our house was considered a 'broken home'. The way my parents interacted with me was called 'child negligence'. The thoughts that sometimes invaded my mind, interrupting my peaceful emptiness, were called 'depressive tendencies'.

I didn't mean to learn all these terms, exactly. It was Sakura and Naruto who had given me the book.

"What's this?" I asked. The book cover read '_Teenager edition: Surviving the broken home_'.

"_It's a book. Naruto and I bought it for you. It's your early birthday present."_ Sakura said.

"I know it's a book," I said dryly, "but why _this_ book?"

"_You won't ask anyone for help. So with this, maybe you'll learn to help yourself." _She said.

Of course I didn't ask anyone for help. I didn't _want_ help. I knew I was depressed. But I was content being depressed. I was okay with it. I didn't care. I didn't want to change things.

Depression was all I knew.

If they took it away, I'd have nothing. I wouldn't know how to feel.

But in spite of myself, I read the book. The main topics were confronting things like sexual abuse and domestic violence, how to seek help, and how to put boundaries between you and your abuser.

It was full of phone numbers, too. Child Helpline, Suicide Hotline, RAIN (Rape And Incest National Network), and several others of the same variety. I was intrigued by it, how many phone numbers there were. How many chances someone had to get help.

If they knew what it was they needed help for.

It would be humiliating at best to call some strange number and speak to some strange person just to say, "I'm being ignored." The person on the other end would probably laugh and say, "Get over it." Helplines are for people who need help. People in crisis.

I was depressed. There was a difference.

School was hard enough to handle. I didn't focus in class. Eventually the teachers gave up trying to force me to participate.

See, when you don't care about anything, it's hard to sit still and focus on the Geography of Northern Europe in the 18th century.

So they let me get away with sitting there, staring out the window. They let me scribble my thoughts into my notebook. They let me read quietly. They let me 'sleep'. They didn't bother me. I didn't bother them.

I didn't interact with my classmates, either. I ignored the way girls looked at me. I ignored the way boys glowered at me. I ignored the friendly gestures and scornful antics. I ignored them all.

I spent lunchtime in a secretive place, too.

We had a library. I sat in the very back, in the restricted 'staff only' section. The staff never went back there. It was a small closet-like space, filled with boring documents I never glanced at. I sat in the corner, with my notebook and my pencil. That was my favourite place at school. Alone, in the dark. Just me and my thoughts.

But that was before the voice started whispering to me, haunting me whenever I was alone.

XXX

The hallways were empty. The classroom doors were shut. I was late, again. I usually was late for first block.

Swinging the hefty door open, I entered the classroom. Everyone was already sitting in their tidy little desks, staring up at our teacher who stood in front of them all. Everyone looked at me when I entered.

"Sasuke-san," he said, his beady little eyes staring at me. "Take your seat."

And that was it. No "why are you late", No "where's your late slip", No "Go to the principal's office".

Just "Take your seat".

I saw the concerned look in Naruto's eyes as I sat down beside him. I ignored it. He should be used to me being late by now. I'm always late. I hate leaving the house early in the morning, where there's a chance I might run in to my father.

Naruto asked me once, _"Why don't you just tell them how you feel?"_

To which I answered, "Because they don't care."

And it's true. They don't care.

I don't like wasting my words. Talking to the deaf is like talking to the wall.

_Pointless_.

First block sped by. When the bell rang everyone headed for the exit, crowding around the door.

"See you at lunch," Naruto said. I nodded to him.

"Sasuke-san," The teacher called to me. I turned and faced him. He motioned for me to approach him. In slow steps, I approached the desk. I hated being kept after class.

He looked me over peevishly as he adjusted the thick-rimmed glasses that framed his chubby face.

"Late again, I see. This is becoming a regular habit. Is there, perhaps, some way you could manage to make it on time?" he drawled in that pompous, lazy tone of his.

"I walk to school," I said simply. "I get here as fast as I can."

He didn't look impressed. I didn't expect him to.

"Well then, perhaps you should start looking for other means of transportation." It wasn't a suggestion. He had had it with my tardiness.

Perhaps it was time I stopped fearing being in the same room with my drunk of a father. I mean, it wouldn't be so bad. He didn't drink in the mornings, as far as I knew. He'd probably be hung-over, though. Which means he'd be very irritable. Which means I'd have to be extra careful.

I nodded and left.

XXX

My second favourite thing about school was leaving it. I enjoyed the walk home. The streets were familiar; the silence was demanded. Was it strange that I felt content in being alone?

This was as closed to happy as I'd ever be.

But I didn't know that at the time.

Two kilometres later and I found myself at the looming entrance of my silent, empty house. This was my contemplating time. I knew I had two options now.

Go inside, go to my room, and try to think about nothing for the next 15 hours.

Or,

Stay outside, find someplace dry and secluded, and try to think about nothing for the next 15 hours.

It wouldn't be the first time I stayed out all night. Neither of my parents even noticed, not that I expected them too. If I were to go to bed and never wake up, they'd go about their 'lives' without any disruption. When the school would call in question, my mom would simply say, "He's sick", completely unaware of my rotting corpse in the upstairs bedroom.

Weeks would go by. Maybe even months. Who knows, maybe they'd _never_ realize. Maybe they'd never care.

And for just a moment, I wondered what a different home would look like. A warm home. With a compassionate, smiling mother, and a trusting father who wasn't ashamed to look at you.

What would it look like? If that had been my home, what would I look like? On the inside?

What would my thoughts look like if I had no reason to hate the very air I breathed?

I opened the door and stepped inside.

And instantly, I noticed something peculiar. Something was very out of place.

My mother was in the kitchen. Standing in front of the stove. And the stove was _on_. My _mother _was _cooking_.

How many years had it been since I saw my mother stirring pots and preparing meals?

I stepped into the kitchen and let the unfamiliar scent of cooked food invade my senses. It was strangely tempting, yet at the same time, a little revolting. Not the smell, just the idea. The idea of my mother doing something… _motherly_.

I took another step inside and noticed a pale white envelope on the kitchen table. It had been ripped open, and the contents slightly protruded from the torn edge. I picked it up carefully, and read the mailing address, printed neatly on the front.

It was to all three of us.

The sender?

_Uchiha Itachi._

With a sudden unexplainable haste, I yanked the letter from the envelope and skimmed over it quickly.

"_Dear Father, Mother, and Sasuke,_

_I hope things have been well with you all. I apologize for not keeping in touch very often, but school has kept me busy. In the last few months a few things have changed for me, such as—"_

I let my eyes jump around the page a bit, landing on only certain sentences that caught my eye.

"—_Thanks to these coincidences, I was able to finish my course a year in advance—"_

Skip a few more lines, reading quickly.

"—_will be coming home soon. In two weeks I have—"_

Wait.

What?

"_Now that I have earned my diploma, I see no reason to stay abroad. Therefore I will be coming home soon. In two weeks I have scheduled a flight to Tokyo. I will rent a car and drive myself home. I apologize for the late notice—"_

I let the paper hit the floor.

Why was I so surprised? I knew Itachi would be home eventually. It's not like he moved to America to stay. He said he would be back someday.

But why now?

Why, in the one time I wanted things to stay the way they were, did they have to change?

I wished he would stay. Stay in America, and never come back. I didn't hate him. But I didn't want anyone or anything disrupting the silent house I tortured myself in.

Depression. This house, the silence, the lack of human contact, were my worst enemies and my closest comrades.

I needed them. And Itachi might ruin everything.

It's strange how, even though he'd barely been gone a year, I could scarcely remember a time when Itachi was around. Father didn't drink back then. And Mother was always crying. I remember those things. But Itachi was always away. He had his own life. His own goals. He didn't have time to waste on me.

I really don't expect anything from him, or from my parents.

When you're a kid, all you really want is for the grownups around you to make the world a safe place. A place where dreams can come true, and promises are never broken. A place where you can live your life in ignorance and in bliss.

And when you're a kid, that doesn't seem like a lot to ask.

It made sense to me now – why my mother was cooking. She had to practice for Itachi. He would expect that from her when he got back, in a few days. It was less than a week, it was in three says. Itachi had written that letter two weeks ago.

I turned around and headed for my room.

XXX

The next two days, something changed. Something inside me was stirring.

Like my shadow had grown and was bigger and stronger than I was, lurking behind me, stalking me. I felt it in the back of my mind, tugging at my consciousness. It wanted out. Whatever it was, it wanted to be freed from the prison that was my head.

It started in my dreams.

It had this familiar, smooth voice. It was _my_ voice, yet the thing speaking it was not me. It whispered things. _Dark _things.

_If I wait until Itachi comes back, everything will change. I need to be gone before that happens._

_I need to be gone. But where do I go?_

'…_die…'_

'_If I die, I won't be here.'_

_But I don't want to die._

'_I don't want them to look at me with those eyes – eyes of indifference. Eyes of hate.'_

'_I'd rather _die_ than see those eyes one more time.'_

_I don't want to die._

'_But I have no other choice. No other escape.'_

_Who are you?_

'_I'm you.'_

_No._

'_I'm here to protect you.'_

_No, you're not me._

'_I'm the person you're turning in to.'_

_No, I'm Sasuke. You're Death, that's who you are._

'_I am you. I am the part of you that you won't acknowledge.'_

_You're not real._

'_Let me save you.'_

_You can't save me._

'_Neither can Itachi.'_

I woke from that dream, and realized that I had been sleeping for the first time in almost a year. Silent, insane thoughts. But I dismissed them as being just a dream – something that came and went with the night's darkness. But it was still the night time.

I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes gently, evading sleep. A few long minutes passed and I felt my body completely relax, and in the midst of my most precious alone time, a content sigh left my lips.

And then I heard the sounds.

Shuffling? No, footsteps.

Soft, quiet footsteps.

My body was instantly alert and guarded; my eyes scanned the darkness and my eyes strained to hear the gentle sounds.

They were getting closer.

With my back facing the door, I kept my eyes open even when I heard the quiet _swish_ of my door being opened. No light invaded my dark room for the hallway was equally dark.

When the footsteps approached my bed, my heart began to beat rapidly.

~~~*~~~

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my newest instalment. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my other story. (Chapter 11 of Stay With Me is almost done.) Hopefully the _italics_ weren't too confusing for you. And a lot of questions will be answered in the next few chapters, so have no worries.


	3. Never Sleep, Never Die

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Two – Never Sleep, Never Die~

~~~*~~~

The sound was menacing.

The noise of soft, quiet footsteps, slowly approaching my bed, was making my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

Subconsciously I curled up into a snug little ball lying on my side, wrapped tightly in my thick comforter. The noises stopped when the intruder loomed over my bed; I could barely make out the darkened shadow they casted on my wall.

Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I had to force myself not to recoil when a baby-soft hand started to gently caress my head. I recognized that hand somehow – it was strangely familiar. But the _loving_ touch was making a feeling of dread boil in my stomach; making me nauseas.

I couldn't ignore it when my visitor started _sniffling_. Almost as if they were weeping—who the hell comes into a fifteen-year-old boy's room in the middle of the night and starts _crying_?

My family were lunatics.

So I slowly turned onto my back and faced the trespasser, not at all –or maybe _completely_– surprised to see my mother standing there; thin rivulets of tears trailing down her cheeks. She smiled at me in a forced sort of way; seemingly difficult for her to do so.

"Sorry I woke you," she cooed, though her voice seemed deeper and wearier. She looked exhausted – now that my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could see the blackish rings beneath her eyes and the unusual paleness of her face. For the first time in months, my mother and I were interacting. She was speaking, touching me, and crying. Why now, after all this time? Did she not take her pills?

"It's okay." I mumbled tiredly, turning on my other side so that I was facing her. When she didn't make a move or say anything, I scooted over close to the wall, silently offering her to join me. Gratitude sparked deep in her facial expressions.

She laid down next to me and I threw the comforter over us both. Her hands began gently stroking my hair and cheek again as she embraced me in an awkward half-hug. My mother seemed vulnerable – like she was the one who needed to be stroked and cuddled. But instead of offering her that, I curled up closer to her warm body and let her shower it all on me.

_I wanted to be the one who was comforted._

_For the first time in my life._

She sighed contently and closed her eyes. "Tomorrow night," she said, "tomorrow night Itachi comes home. At last…" and then she was crying again; silently this time. I answered her with only a stare.

"Are you excited too?" She asked, sloppily wiping the tears from her face. I didn't know what to say. I _was_ excited – I had missed Itachi dearly. But another, darker, deeper side of me never wanted to see him again.

_That stupid fucking traitorous—_

"Yeah," I nodded, breathing in the scent of my mother's nightgown. Lemons. The detergent she used to clean the laundry was lemon scented, I realized. Why didn't my clothes smell like that? Or maybe they did, and I just never noticed.

I liked the scent. The scent of my mother's nightdress as she laid next to me. In my bed. The night before Itachi came home.

But then she started crying again – a sort of hysterical sob leaving her lips. I widened my eyes at the moaning sound of emotional agony that left her lips; never had my mother looked so miserable.

"I'm sorry, baby—" she grabbed me and slammed me against her chest, in an almost violent –_loving_– embrace. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, gently rocking us back and forth.

_Stop it_.

"Wh-why?"

_I don't want your apology._

"Mommy's been bad to you," she choked, burying her head in my hair. I didn't like the idea of her morbid excretions getting in my hair.

"I know you're sad," she snivelled. "I know you've been suffering alone all this time. And I didn't help you at all – not even once." Her frantic weeping was making us both tremble.

"Can you ever forgive me?" She cried; her voice muffled by the top of my head, "Can you forgive me for leaving you all alone?"

_Tell her what she wants to hear._

"Sasuke?" she sobbed.

_Tell her what she wants and she'll go away._

—If you promise to not leave me anymore, then I forgive you—

"Yeah," I whispered, feeling my eyes cloud over with unshed tears, "I forgave you a long time ago."

Maybe in some way, it was a lie. Maybe I hadn't forgiven her at all. Maybe I never would.

But in that moment, all her love and devotion was being bestowed on me. And I needed it.

She didn't say anything more. Instead she quietly sobbed, her body pressed against mine. Finally she loosened her grip; but still kept me fiercely close. As exhaustion began to set in again, she shifted her body till she was almost lying _on top_ of me, but I didn't mind.

_Maybe things will be different now. Maybe she's changed._

Hope guided my dreams that night, as I _slept_ again for the second time after so long.

XXX

Sunlight streamed in through the closed curtains, brightening the room in an oddly dark way. I awoke from my morbidly peaceful dreams, stretching my arms high above my head and yawning.

That had been a very good night.

For some reason, I had believed that it was impossible for anything to ever be _good_ again. How childish. Of course things could change for the better – and they had. Today would be a _good_ day.

I sat up and rubbed at my eyes. Mother was still asleep, next to me—

What was that _smell_?

Something foul and repulsive, mixed with the faint smell of… lemons?

Lemons… mother?

I looked over at her. She was still asleep, lying on her side and turned away from me. She wasn't moving much, in fact, she wasn't moving at all. Why wasn't her body moving as she breathed?

_Was_ she breathing?

_Why isn't she breathing?_

"Mom?" I asked, scooting closer to her. I laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and felt the strange _hardness_ of her rigid body. I climbed out of bed and walked around it to stand in front of her. Her face was colourless – her skin was a sickly yellowish tone. Her eyes were still ringed with black signs of exhaustion. Her lips were a grey tinted with a poisonous shade of purple.

"Mom—" I choked, "it's time to get up."

_Wake up_.

"Mom?" I tried shaking her; her limbs were strangely flexible. Her arms lifelessly hit the mattress as her head rolled on the pillow. "Mom?!"

And then I heard the high-pitched _clank_ sound of something dropping. I turned my eyes discreetly to the ground and saw, through my clouded vision, the little orange bottle.

The _empty_ bottle.

I picked it up and saw my mother's name; the bottle read, _Cipralex; 100 capsules. Take daily dosage as prescribed by physician. _

Mother's… pills…

"MOM! Mom, wake up! _Wake up!_"

I was shaking her, violently, my face felt so _wet—_

"Wake up! Please wake up! _Please!_"

No no no no no no God please NO!

"_WAKE UP!"_

Her skin was so cold—

"Please wake up! Mom!"

Why is everything so blurry? Mom is—

My door slammed open but I didn't bother to look. I was still shaking her. She wasn't waking up.

_This can't be happening_.

"What the hell is—Oh Christ…Mikoto?"

My father's voice was strange but I didn't hear him. I knew he was talking but I didn't hear him. I felt his hand wrap around my arm and pull me off my _mother_ but I didn't hear him.

"God damn it," he cursed, wrapping my _mother_ in my thin white sheets. I was still screaming but I didn't know what I was saying. "Damn it, Mikoto…"

My back hit the wall and I felt my knees give in. I ripped at my eyes to get the image out of my mind but it wouldn't fade.

Father left and came back just as fast with the phone. He was dialling a number and then talking to someone. I didn't hear him.

He set the phone down and looked back grimly as he stepped in front of me, "Sasuke, quiet do—"

"NO! No! No! No! _NO!_" I screamed it over and over, trying to make it true. Someone has to believe me.

_Please let it be a dream._

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, and began dragging me down the hallway. I didn't know where we were anymore.

"No! Let go! Mom! _Mom_!!"

When he finally let go I heard the door slam and lock, where was I? A desk, a bookshelf—Father's study. Oh God, why? Mother is…

"Mom…" I sobbed, falling to the ground. I didn't feel the floor but I knew I had collided with it. I was sobbing so hard that I could feel it in my throat – my stomach was churning. I turned my head down and was sick; the feeling of stomach acid burning my throat was numb to me. "Mom… no… please…"

_Please…_

"_Can you ever forgive me?"_

_Please let it be a dream._

"_Can you forgive me for leaving you all alone?"_

"WHHYYYY!!!!" I screamed, beating the floor hysterically next to my head. The carpet burned my fist but I didn't care –_it was numb_– I couldn't feel it at all.

But God, it hurts.

"No… no… no…" Through my sobs, my words were broken.

_Keep saying it, Sasuke._

_Maybe someone will believe you._

XXX

It was dark by the time Itachi arrived home. And imagine his shock when he arrived to find his house swarming with cops and his driveway swamped with cars with flashing lights?

He had a cell phone, but of course Fugaku didn't know the number. Otherwise he would have called to say something. To tell him exactly what awaited him when he came home.

"_Father?" _He had said, _"What's going on here?"_

His father ceased his conversation with one of the policemen and turned to his oldest son, _"Itachi… your mother overdosed this morning. She didn't make it…"_

And even through his despicable, hard-ass nature, Fugaku was devastated. Itachi could see it – in his eyes – the obvious signs of future depression were setting in.

Itachi had been just as equally affected. His mind was rushing to try and make it make sense – but there wasn't any logical reasoning to satisfy him. Despairing, Itachi took a moment to collapse on the couch and bury his face in his hands. It didn't take long for his hands to be dampened by his salty tears.

All around him cops were bustling and talking – speeding back and forth, checking this, asking that – but it seemed like one big whirlwind to Itachi. He wasn't sure how many hours passed by; how many hours he had spent lost in his own thoughts.

When finally the house was empty and silent, Fugaku came and sat next to Itachi. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, while he assumed the same position of resting his head in his hand. They didn't say anything, nor did they need to. Words wouldn't help ease their grief, not now. The thick, heavy silence was sewn together with threads made from anguish. Itachi wanted to collapse; to sleep off his unending misery; but he couldn't seem to make his body stand.

"She wasn't well, your mother." Fugaku said at last, "She'd been dealing with her… 'illness' for a few months now. I don't think she liked being poor."

And that was Uchiha Fugaku's intellectual deduction of his wife's suicide. She didn't like being _poor_. Because to Fugaku, if you couldn't afford servants and sports cars and your own swimming pool, then you were _poor_. And Fugaku felt guilty, you know? He didn't like being poor either. And let's face it, Mikoto was no maid. She must have _hated_ cleaning the house like some servant girl, the poor thing.

Yes, Fugaku felt guilty, but for all the wrong reasons.

"I don't think she'd commit suicide over something like that," Itachi remarked, drying his face off on his shirt. "Which room did she…?"

Fugaku had been dreading that. He looked away from his son as he said, "She… she did it Sasuke's room. In his bed, while he slept next to her. He woke up next to her corpse."

Itachi felt pain – agonizing pain, and burning resentment – swell in his chest. What kind of person could do that? What kind of mother could seek comfort in her own child and then kill herself?

Mikoto had used Sasuke in a way that Itachi could not forgive.

"Where is Sasuke?"

"I put him in my study. He was hysterical this morning."

Itachi frowned and clenched his fist. "He hasn't come out yet?"

A look of realization dawned on Fukaku's bleak face as he quickly stood, "No – shit, I locked the door—"

Itachi was standing just as quickly and they were both stumbling up the stairs, dashing down the long carpeted hallway towards the ominous door of Fugaku's study. "I must have forgotten about him with all the commotion going on," Fugaku mumbled as he slammed the key into the hole and ripped the door open.

"Must have," Itachi glared as he shoved past his father and into the study. It was too dark to see anything.

"Sasuke?" Itachi said aloud. Fugaku hit the light switch and there they both saw, Sasuke lying on his side by the desk, his legs were pulled up to his chest and his arms were embracing himself. Streaks of dried tears painted his cheeks, his hair was messily spiked in almost all directions, and he was looking much paler than usual.

Itachi rushed to his little brother's side but didn't fail to notice the several puddles of dried vomit that Sasuke was laying in. He placed a hand on his brother's cheek and Sasuke opened his eyes, and then closed them again. Itachi scooped his little brother into his arms and carried him out.

"It reeks in there," Fugaku said in disgust as he followed his eldest son to the bathroom.

"I'll clean it up later." Itachi said as he set Sasuke's limp body on the counter and turned the faucet on. The phone could be heard ringing from down the hallway and Fugaku left immediately to answer it.

"Sasuke," Itachi breathed, staring at Sasuke's unresponsive face. Sasuke opened his eyes again but didn't look at Itachi, and Itachi almost sobbed at the completely hallow look in his brother's eyes. Sasuke had never looked so _dead_. "Oh, Sasuke…" Itachi gasped, pulling his brother into a tight embrace, and letting his tears drench his little brother's hair.

Sasuke just shut his eyes.

~~~*~~~

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reading. :) I'm sure that some of you felt that the beginning was a bit over-dramatic, but based on personal experience, I tried to make it as realistic as possible, lol.


	4. Cure for Despondence

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Three – Cure for Despondence~

~~~*~~~

The room was bright and dark at the same time. The bed was unfamiliar; the sheets were strangely stiff as if they hadn't been used in months. The walls were not pale blue like mine, they were dusky beige. This room was smaller than mine, and considerably cleaner. I had no idea where I was.

But I wasn't alone.

Lying next to me, in the same bed, was another person. Their back was to me. The blanket we shared hid their body, all except their long, silky, black hair that trailed over their shoulders. Who is this? They look so much like—

I stretched out my hand and touched my palm to their back. It was warm, and soft. I shuffled closer to them and felt the gentle tremor of their chest rising and falling. They were breathing. They were alive. _She was alive_.

I grabbed their shoulder gently and began shaking it, rousing them from their sleep.

"Mom," I whispered, feeling tears well up in my eyes. "Wake up." I kept shaking her, listening to the soft groans she made when she was disturbed. "Wake up."

_It was all just a dream._

_Thank you, God, thank you…_

"Mmm… Sasuke?"

Wait. Who is that?

That's not Mom's voice.

The person rolled over and faced me; they certainly were not my mother. This was a _man_. He had my father's brown eyes. He had my mother's long, silky hair. He had pale skin and two thin lines on either side of his nose. This was not my mother.

"It's still early," _He_ said. "Are you sure you want to get up?"

"Where's Mom?"

His expression faltered. The gentle, compassionate smile he sported a moment ago vanished and his eyes became slightly void. He looked away.

"Sasuke… don't you remember yesterday?"

And then I did. I remembered it all; in the fraction of a second it hit me. I couldn't breathe. She was gone. She was really gone. She was gone, and I wouldn't ever see her again.

Tears started pouring from my eyes. Itachi was looking at me again. He started wiping my cheeks in a tender, circular motion. And then I was sobbing – fisting the stiff sheets in my hands and screwing my eyes shut. I turned my head and buried my face in my pillow, stifling my cries. Itachi leaned over me, placing his hand on my shoulder and pulling me toward him in an embrace. I pulled away from him, not wanting to be embraced. To him, I must have looked like some distressed toddler. Oh, how ashamed I felt. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't make it stop.

_It just hurt so much—_

I began mumbling incoherently into my pillow. Even I didn't know what I was saying. Itachi gave up trying to hug me; instead, he blanketed me with his body and began shushing me. When my sobs quieted down he pulled me toward him again – this time I let him. He gently rocked us back and forth, still hushing me, until I fell asleep in his arms.

XXX

Three days later, we buried our mother. There were a lot of people there, most of them were family. A lot of Mom's old friends from University came too, and most of Dad's close co-workers and drinking buddies.

Itachi's closest friends came to be there in his time of need. I knew that, if I had chosen to, I could have invited Naruto and Sakura to be there for me like that. But I hadn't even told them about my mother yet. I'd ignored their calls and texts the last few days, opting to just leave my cell phone turned off. I didn't want to talk to them. I didn't want to talk to anyone.

In some twisted way, things had gone back to normal since Itachi came home.

_Almost as if he was slowly taking Mother's place._

I went back to not sleeping at night. Only now, I wasn't 'resting' either. I wouldn't even touch my bed, leaving it the same way it had been when she died. My father said it smelled; but I couldn't smell anything except the sickening scent of _lemons_. That's all there was in my room now. The putrid scent of my mother's decaying body was completely overrun by her lemony clean nightgown.

I liked the scent. The scent of my mother's nightdress as she laid next to me. In my bed. The night before Itachi came home.

Dressed in black, I stood between my father and my brother in the front row, watching my mother's oak wood coffin being lowered into a deep hole in the ground. Her mother and father, stricken with grief and old age, stood beside us. Grandma was crying. Grandpa was holding her hands.

Morbid sounds of people crying echoed through the small crowd of people. The priest who stood before us was reciting pointless trash from his stupid book, telling us to pray and saying he would pray for her and us.

_Praying won't bring her back._

When the ceremony was finished, father invited a dozen of mother's closest friends back to our house for some kind of warped "mourning" group session. Itachi stayed behind at mother's grave, saying he would be home later.

XXX

They had me trapped.

They had me trapped downstairs with them and their stupid sulking assembly.

The staircase that led upstairs – to my _bedroom_ – was in the living room, where father and his guests were sitting and talking about all the things they loved about my mother. When I tried to go upstairs father would say, "Sasuke, we have company. It's rude to ignore your guests like that," and I would glare at him in response, then go sit back down.

I wanted to tell him that this wasn't some stupid party or trivial event. My mother was _dead_ and he was acting like he was hosting a cocktail party. His words were sad but his actions were contrary. It was no doubt my father was a social man.

With everyone except my mother and I, of course.

"Sasuke dear," my grandmother said, taking my hand in her bony, wrinkly fingers. I recoiled from her but a sharp glare from my father brought them back into her gnarled old hands. "I'm so sorry for you poor dear," she said, "You must be so sad. But know that you have your father and wonderful little Itachi to take care of you."

_Wonderful little Itachi _indeed.

_That bastard doesn't give a damn about me._

"Keep your chin up and don't let this affect your school grades, you hear me?" she said in her tender, withered voice. I nodded and she smiled; her crumpled face drew even more creases.

My grandfather sat down beside her and took her hands from mine, as he cooed gentle words to her. The sight and sound of all these people, _in my house_ and under these circumstances was nauseating. The last thing I wanted was to be surrounded by shallow, whining hypocrites. Why couldn't they see that I needed to be left alone?

I sat there for well over an hour, staring blankly at the wall opposite me. Once I had succeeded in tuning out their voices and conversations it wasn't so bad. My thoughts kept me entertained and I felt slightly content until my view of the wall was disrupted by my father. Irritably, I followed him with my eyes as he left the room, and returned a moment later with a tray of glasses and a bottle of wine.

That was the last straw.

There was no tuning them out when they were under alcohol's influence. Especially not my father.

I got up and headed straight for the staircase when my father said, "And where are _you_ going?"

I turned to him, and as obediently as I could I replied, "Bathroom."

With that he turned back to his guests, but before I could take another step he muttered, "Use the downstairs bathroom, please."

Bitter and defeated, I swerved on a dime and left the living room. But I didn't head to the bathroom – that was just an excuse to go upstairs. No, instead I headed straight for the kitchen. Upon entering I stopped and scanned the whole room with a critical eye. I didn't come in here much, because I didn't really have a need to. But now I did have a need; a need that could only be met in the kitchen.

And then my eyes landed on it – my cure. Magnetized against a wooden board hanging above the sink, stainless metal gleamed invitingly as I stepped forward. My hand wrapped around the hilt of the serrated butcher's knife, and I held it up to see the fluorescent lights illuminate its spectacular décor.

Hastily I bolted for the bathroom next to the front door, making sure to hide the knife carefully beneath my shirt. I stepped into the tiny square room and hit the light switch, but to my surprise it remained dark. I shouldn't have been surprised – no one really used this bathroom. It was small and dreary.

It was perfect.

Even with the lights disabled I went inside and shut the door. The only thing I truly disliked about this room was the lack of a lock on the door. There wasn't a lock on my bedroom door either when we moved here, but I went out and bought one for myself and installed it myself. I needed to feel secure. I needed my privacy.

Sitting against the wall opposite the door, next to the toilet, I brought my knees against my chest and sighed. It had been over a month since I last did this. Cutting wasn't my specialty either – I much preferred using candles to paint blackish markings up and down my arms.

Without any sort of illumination I used my hands to trace the withering scars on my wrists. Some were deep and gash-like, resembling wounds caused by some form of brutal attack. Others were thin and straight, like cat-scratches, only they remained eternally red and visible. Many months would pass before they faded into grey lines.

And then I traced further up my arm, to the burns and bruises that were also self-inflicted. My body was like a canvas and pain was my muse; every knife and flame were like my paintbrushes and death was my motive. This was more than a cry for help or attention; this was a disease that was slowly gnawing at my mind like a deadly parasite. And there was no cure.

You can't cure despondence.

I rolled up the black sleeve of my dress shirt and pressed the knife's blade against my wrist. I took a deep breath, emptied my mind, and began the first cut.

Dragging the jagged blade across my pale flesh, I felt the skin begin to separate and moisten. I cut deeply over old scars and ripped the veins to spill claret water over the surface. Blood trickled across my skin and down to my palms, pooling in the centre. But I didn't stop there, even when the sensation of pain began to cloud over my other senses. I made three, then four, and eventually six perfectly straight horizontal cuts down my wrist, each the same length and depth. The blood that was pouring looked black in this black room, and I felt it fitting. For someone like me to bleed black blood was more than appropriate.

When my frenzy slowed I rested my forehead against my knee, clenching and unclenching my fist. The odd numbness that travelled up and down my forearm was comforting somehow; like a gentle noise in a silent realm. Sudden sounds of shuffling and movement could be heard outside the bathroom door, but I didn't budge. With my head down I couldn't see the light turn on in the hallway outside, as light flooded through the crack beneath the door. No, I only let my head rise up when the door suddenly opened and a sickly yellow light bathed the entire tiny bathroom. And when I raised my head I was met with the shocked and pale face of my older brother, who stared down at me and my bleeding wrist and the stained blade of my butcher's knife.

I had literally been caught red-handed.

XXX

Irony had such a bitter taste.

And what could be more ironic than my stoic and neglectful older brother, bestowing comfort and affection upon me in my current weakened state? What could possibly be worse than being embraced by someone who had never once been there for you, or being told by that same person that you would never be alone even though they abandoned you in the first place?

He wasn't as angry as I thought.

In fact, it seemed to depress him more than anything.

Itachi's arms were wrapped tightly around my shoulders and back, trapping me against his torso. The knife still sat dangerously in my hand, and more than once the thought to pierce him with it crossed my mind. But that would cause a scene and I didn't need any more attention from my most-likely drunk father tonight.

"Sasuke," Itachi whispered into my hair, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I know that I haven't been there for you, but I'm here now."

"I don't care."

_I don't need you._

"Just let go, would you?" I said, pushing my hands against his chest. "I can't breathe with you crushing me like this."

_I can't breathe._

_Let go._

"No, Sasuke, not until you tell me why you did this."

"Ssshh!" I hushed angrily, prying myself from his grasp, "Someone will hear you idiot!"

Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly, but he grabbed my shoulder and shoved me inside the tiny bathroom again. He entered inside and shut the door, and I was trapped with him in the dark and cramped room.

"They won't hear us in here." Itachi said, as I pressed myself against the wall furthest from him. "Does the light not work?" he mumbled as he flicked the switch on and off a few times.

"Obviously," I snapped, trying to fuse my body with the wall of plaster against my back.

Itachi ignored me and reached for the counter, then ducked down to open the cabinets. I couldn't see what he was doing, and the sounds he made gave me no clues to deduce from. I saw his arms stretch towards the ceiling and heard the gentle squeak of a light bulb turning. The squeaking stopped and then started again, and when it was over Itachi hit the switch and the room was brightened by fresh white light.

I watched him put the burnt-out light bulb back in the box and shove it back in the cabinet, and when he stood straight again he looked at me, expectantly.

I merely stared back at him in silent defiance.

He sighed, and leant against the counter gingerly. I noticed for the first time the exhausted look on his face – dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his skin tone was paler than mine. The liveliness in his eyes was gone and his movements were slowed. Fatigue seemed to be catching up with him.

He almost looked as wrecked as I did.

_Serves him right._

"Sasuke, tell me why you did this." He demanded gently, letting his emotions spread across his usually bleak face. When I answered him with only silence he reached for the cabinets again, and this time retrieved the first-aid kit. He set it on the counter and opened it, pulling out a roll of gauze, some medical tape and a small pair of scissors.

"Give me your wrist," he said, reaching his hand out to me. Against my better judgement I stepped toward him and gave him my hand. He turned on the cold water faucet and rinsed all the blood away, then tenderly wrapped the wounds in layers of gauze. He cut the gauze and strips of tape and wrapped it all tightly together; securing it to stifle the steady blood flow.

When he finished he let me take my hand back and I stepped away to the wall once more. I leant against it, letting my fingers stroke over the scratchy new wristband.

Twenty-some minutes passed in an awkward silence. Neither knew what to say to the other. Itachi was obviously unsettled by the lack of communication, or maybe he was concerned that his brother was following in his deceased mother's footsteps.

"Are you going to tell dad?"

Itachi looked up at me, and his eyes softened. "Not if you promise not to do it anymore."

I had to resist the temptation to smirk.

_You're too easy._

"Okay. I promise."

_Itachi, Itachi…_

He smiled and stepped towards the door, "Good."

_Don't you know I'm capable of lying?_

I followed him out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Before we got to the living room Itachi held me back and said, "But we're still going to talk about this later, all right?"

I nodded obediently, and he stepped past me and into the living room. My father's drunken voice greeted him in a boisterous welcoming, and I was grateful that he was too wrapped up in Itachi to notice me entering. With Itachi taking center stage, I was able to saunter right through the living room and up the stairs. Unbeknownst to me, Itachi's eyes trailed the steps behind me.

XXX

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much everyone who's reviewed and favourited this story. ^_^ I'm so glad you like it! I hope you will continue to read it to the end. Happy (belated?) Holidays!


	5. The Serrated Paint Brush

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter 4 – The Serrated Paint Brush~

~~~*~~~

The first time I saw a scarred wrist, I thought it was beautiful. It wasn't my own.

I was young then. It was on one of the very rare occasions that father would take me – and only me – with him to do his errands. Not intentionally of course; mother and Itachi weren't at home, so he couldn't leave me there. We had gone to the bank, and stood in line for a little while, until we were called up to the counter. That's when I saw my first scars. The bank clerk was a beautiful young woman, who was cleaned up to look friendly and attractive, and it worked.

While father was busy looking at her body, (subtly, of course) I was noticing other things. Small things. Important things. For one, the wrist cuff of her long sleeved shirt rode up her arm when she stretched it. That's how I saw the scars; she stretched out her arm to give my gawking father his cash, and her sleeve rolled up, just enough, for me to see the reddened lines. Only two were visible, but somehow, I knew there was more. There must have been. Who would paint such beautiful markings on themselves, only to do a couple? No, any _sane_ person would go all the way, and paint their misery in a vibrant red for everyone to see.

Her scars, though faded, were a dark red, a withered red. But they were deep, and scabbing, and they only made her more beautiful. If anything, her face was an insult to the beauty of those thinly carved pieces of art.

"_Tell me why you did this, Sasuke."_

Itachi, Itachi…

What _sane_ person doesn't paint their agony onto physical reality?

Sanity is a wonderful thing, Itachi. It gives us the excuse to step out of boundaries and tell the entire world to _fuck off._

Because sanity gave birth to insanity; the sane paint their sorrow – the insane force their sorrow on others.

Serrated knives were the only kind I could stand to use.

Knives that were smooth, no matter how sharp, just didn't produce the same level of beauty. Serrated knives tore the skin, just slightly, as you dragged it from one side to the other and applied pressure. Flat knives needed much more brute force, and that took away from the artistry of the whole thing.

Flat knives left soft scars that faded quickly and never let you express yourself _sanely_.

Serrated knives tore the skin, leaving flaming, deep scars, which screamed agony in physical and emotional waves of sound.

Yes, serrated knives were my brush. My skin was my canvas, and my sorrow, my agony, and my pain, were all just my many shades of bright red paint.

The bank clerk, from many years ago – she had used a serrated knife. And it worked.

Her physical features were stunning, yes, but that beauty was fleeting. One day her face would be nothing more than wrinkled lines and saggy skin. But her wrists, though no longer creamy smooth and taut, would always house those beautiful white scars.

A beauty that isn't fleeting, and like a book, it can tell the sad story of an entire lifetime.

XXX

"Sasuke, go to bed."

"Why? I don't sleep."

"Just try, okay? You'll fall asleep eventually."

"No I won't."

Itachi frowned, obviously not impressed that I was arguing with him. What did he expect? Compliancy? Obedience? Pfft. Good luck, Itachi. But in case you didn't notice, I don't _give a fuck _for what you have to say.

"Why are you arguing with me, Sasuke?" He asked, stepping further into my bedroom. I didn't move from my place on the floor, where I sat next to my bed. My book that I had been reading – before Itachi barged in – was lying forgotten beside me.

"Because you don't know what you're talking about," I grunted, irritated. "You don't know shit about me."

"Care to remedy that?" he asked as he stood next to the bed. He looked down at it, pityingly, then he looked back at me. I glared at him, sullenly, but I didn't say anything.

I was half-expecting him to start talking about earlier, when he found me in the bathroom. But as he stepped closer, I could smell the undeniable scent of my father's putrid alcohol. Stupid adults. How nice it must be, to wash away your guilt and burdens and responsibilities and troubles with a few glasses of bitter poison.

And in a way, I knew I was being unreasonable to Itachi. It was dark outside; most likely, it was late at night, and he was just trying to make sure I was taken care of. But unbeknownst to Itachi; I didn't need anyone to tend to me and care for me.

I'd been alone all this time. I didn't need anyone's help.

_Not anymore._

_I can find my own cure._

Red paint and serrated brushes.

Resentment.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" He asked, standing above me.

"Why would I?"

"It might be easier." He almost whispered. I thought, for a moment,

"But where will you sleep?"

"Next to you, of course."

"We can't do that," I spat detestably, "it's weird."

He smiled. "Not it's not. We're brothers. It's perfectly normal."

"Yeah," I replied, sarcastically, "for brothers who are _five_."

"Look, do you want to or not?" He asked impatiently, crossing his arms across his chest.

Goddamn me and my stupid sibling-affection-complex. Why couldn't I ever refuse that stupid smug jerk? It was like some needy child possessed me every time Itachi opened his big stupid mouth.

This whole thing was just so stupid.

_Always blaming others for your shortcomings, aren't you?_

_Selfish little child._

"Fine, whatever." I sighed, standing, and trying to ignore the suddenly-very-pleased look on Itachi's stupid face. He placed a hand on my shoulder then turned around, and walked down the hallway to his own bedroom, with me following his every step.

Itachi pulled back his sheets, and nestled against the wall, leaving plenty of room for my body. I didn't move.

He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to change into your pyjamas?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and looked away while timidly muttering, "I only wear my boxers at night…"

"Still?"

Itachi didn't bother hiding his amused smirk. Bastard.

"You've always been like that, haven't you?" he asked, and turned to lie on his side, with his back facing me. "Go ahead and get undressed. I don't mind. Turn off the light when you're done…"

Awkwardly, I pulled my shirt and pants off and left them in a pile on the floor. Then I thwacked the light switch and climbed into Itachi's bed, making my back face his. I scooted over so I was on the very edge of the bed and as far away as possible from my brother.

"Goodnight, Sasuke."

I felt him nuzzle against the mattress and the blankets, and I envied how comfortable he seemed to be. For me, this was awkward; almost _suffocating._

_Just don't fall asleep._

_She died because you were asleep._

_If you'd been awake, she'd be alive._

Pleasant thoughts, as always. With such a malevolent lullaby to soothe my already burdened mind, I knew sleep would not grace me tonight.

XXX

I hated Itachi's bedroom.

There was no clock. Nothing! Not a single time-telling device. How could Itachi live without one?

I was sure that his cell phone had a clock, but I had no idea where he kept it at night, and I didn't want to go searching for it because I didn't want to risk waking him. I thought about going and getting my cell phone, but a certain lethargy caused by depression kept me firmly rooted in his bed.

Itachi himself wasn't helping _at all_.

Soon as he'd fallen asleep, his body moved away from the wall. Seems he likes to sleep in the _middle_ of the bed. It also seems like he has trouble keeping his freaking hands to himself…

I don't know how many times I had to pull his wandering hands away from my naked chest. Obviously, this hadn't been such a good idea. The worst part was the strange, _pleasurable _tingle that his fingertips spread across my skin. Occasionally he would press flat against me, and press his face into the back of my bare neck. I drew the line when he began _nuzzling _my throat.

I needed to know what time it was.

Three hours had passed inside Itachi's bedroom, though to me, it felt like only ten minutes. This is why I needed a clock in the room at all times. I would get so lost, inside myself, that I would lose time. Literally – I would _lose _time. And it was such a frightening sensation, to see the numbers rise and tell you that your life is ticking away.

Though the faint _ticking _sound that could sometimes be as loud as gunshot reminded you that you were alone; in a caring way. It was annoying. I liked digital clocks much better, as long as the alarm wasn't set.

I left Itachi's bedroom silently, picking up my abandoned clothes in mild haste. I didn't want to wake him up – he would ask why I was leaving. I walked briskly down the hall to my own bedroom, and welcomed the cold and dead air that embraced me.

I grabbed the book I had been reading earlier and curled up on the window sill. The cold glass felt smooth and damp against my skin, and the light from the pale moon spilled across the pages of my open book. They say it's bad for your eyes to read in the dark, but you see, this isn't really dark at all. Their darkness is a bright sunny day to me.

I stayed in that same position, silently reading, for the rest of the night. My digital clock glowed just as silently beside me.

XXX

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" Itachi asked, setting three plates of his freshly cooked meal on the table. I stood at the front door with my shoes and backpack on, looking back at my brother irritably.

"No, I don't eat breakfast."

Itachi hadn't said anything about last night.

"And why not?"

I shrugged, pulling the door open and stepping outside. "Don't feel like it." Then I looked back at him again, and said goodbye, slamming the door before he had a chance to say 'have a good day'.

XXX

"Sasuke, where have you been?!" Naruto exclaimed, as I took my seat next to him. For once, I wasn't late for class. Father had been taking a few days off and therefore wasn't up as early, which meant I could leave on time for school.

"At home." I replied casually, setting my backpack on the floor next to my desk. Sakura turned around from her seat, in front of me.

"We were worried about you," she said, her eyes glistened. "We both tried calling your house, but no one answered. And your cell phone was turned off."

"Yeah!" Naruto agreed, nodding his head furiously. "We even left messages and you didn't return them!"

"I was busy." I responded, glaring at Naruto vehemently. I contemplated telling them what happened, or even telling them that Itachi had come home. But Naruto and Sakura didn't know anything, not about me and not about my life.

_They're still pure._

_Life hasn't tainted them._

_Let them stay ignorant, and blissful._

_You've taken enough from them already._

"Busy with what?" Naruto demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. I sent him a fierce, angry glare and snapped, "None of your damn business!"

His eyes widened, filled with hurt. He looked away from me, a mixture of anger and sadness painted on his tanned face. Sakura looked between us, confused and grief-stricken.

I turned my head away and didn't say another word to either of them for the rest of the day.

XXX

"Jesus, you look more like shit than usual, man." Suigetsu said from my left, standing against my locker. I grabbed my textbook and shoved it in my backpack, slamming my locker shut.

"Thanks." I drawled sarcastically. Suigetsu grinned playfully; his sharp, pearly white teeth gave him a predatory look. He followed close behind me as I began to walk towards the exit. Finally, it was time to go home.

Naruto and Sakura had been avoiding me after this morning. Good. I was avoiding them, too.

"I know what you need, Sasuke." All of the sudden, Suigetsu was walking beside me, still sporting his callous grin. "I have something that'll make you feel great."

"I don't need any of your drugs, Suigetsu." I narrowed my eyes at him in warning, enlarging the distance between our moving bodies.

"Don't knock it till you try it, man!" And then he was in front of me, blocking my way. "You know what they say. You should try everything at least once."

"I don't think they included drugs when they said everything." I tried to step around him, but he stepped in front of me again.

"You know…" he said, leaning close to me. "My dealer told me something interesting yesterday." Again, I tried to side-step him and he foiled it. "He told me that the wife of Uchiha Fugaku killed herself."

I froze, and stared at him with widened eyes.

_No, no, God please no…_

"You haven't told your little friends yet, have you?" his hand was trailing up my arm, towards my shoulder. "If you come get high with me, I promise I'll keep your little secret."

"Why should I trust you?" I growled, stepping back. A look of mock-hurt spread across his face. "We're _friends_ Sasuke! Isn't that what friends are for?"

"How did your dealer find out?" I glared, accusingly. "My father paid the media to keep quiet."

He grinned, that same malicious smile, and pressed his lips close to my ear suddenly. "Why don't you come with me and ask him yourself?"

Then he turned, and began walking down the hallway again. My legs began to my move, and to my horror, I realized I was following him.

XXX

We took the bus downtown, to the center of the city. Some buildings were tall, new, clean. And some were small and falling apart, housing the scum of society. I followed Suigetsu a few blocks from the bus station, until he turned into an alley. I followed him. He came to the backdoor of a tall, old bank, and entered inside.

I followed him.

Immediately inside was an unlit staircase. We walked down the stairs, and found ourselves facing another door. This one had a wall lamp beside it, and a sign hanging from it that said, _Sound._

He opened the door, and on the other side I was shocked to see a bar. A bar decorated in dark purples, blues, and blacks, with dim lighting and strange, quiet music playing. Questionable strangers (most likely costumers) sat around on the couches, drinking and chatting. Each one of them wore strange clothing and was a little intimidating. I guessed that this was some kind of private club that Suigetsu was part of.

We walked through the club, making our way towards the back.

"Do Karin and Juugo know about this place?"

Suigetsu nodded, turning around to give me a cheeky smile. "They're both members, too,"

We reached the back wall and another door. This one had a sign as well, only this sign read, _Private_.

Suigetsu knocked briskly and the door opened; a tall and dangerous looking man with a muscular physique answered. He stared down at Suigetsu and me, and said in a gruff voice, "Password?"

"Snake." Suigetsu replied, and the man stepped aside and let us through. Immediately, a strong scent of something I couldn't quite name overpowered me. The sight wasn't any better. This room wasn't as big as the bar, but there were more people. Four large rectangular couches were placed in a square, and a large table was in the middle of them. People sat tightly packed on the couches, each of them reaching for the goodies laid on the table before them. They were drug users.

Bags of white powders, bottles of clear liquids, trays of green leaves, finely chopped, and cups full of different sized and coloured pills. Nothing was organized or neat; everything was splayed across the table in a heap and mess. The surface of the table itself did not appear clean, but the users didn't seem to mind. They all sat around contentedly, ingesting the drugs laid before them like starving, gluttonous pigs.

Suigetsu, fortunately, walked right passed them, although he spared more than a few longing glances at the buffet of addictive substances.

Another door. This time there was no sign, but a man just as big and threatening stood in front of it. He nodded a greeting to Suigetsu as we approached.

"Is the boss in?" Suigetsu asked, and he gestured to me. "I have a friend I'd like him to meet."

The giant man nodded, and looked me over critically. "Is this the one?" He asked, and Suigetsu smiled and nodded. "This is him. _Uchiha _Sasuke."

The man's eyes widened and he nodded again, stepping aside. "Lord Orochimaru is just inside. Go on in."

I hesitated when Suigetsu moved to grab the door handle. This whole thing just didn't feel right. But if this is what I had to do to keep Naruto and Sakura from knowing about…

_They don't need to know._

_They're untainted._

I followed Suigetsu inside, and felt the vibration of the slamming door behind us ricochet through my chest. An unpleasant sight greeted us – a pale man, much older than either of us, sat behind a large mahogany desk. His long black hair trailed over his shoulders and down his back, and his dark clothing seemed to blend with the equally dark room. A young boy, no older than us, stood pressed against the man; his hands were trailing over his shoulders and playing with the tips of his long hair. Their lips were glued together; tongues battling in a violent make-out session. The older man's hands were trailing up and down the boy's back, occasionally grabbing his ass, making the boy moan.

I gasped at the unsightly scene and looked away, resisting the urge to cover my eyes in disgust. Suigetsu cleared his throat to get the man's attention. It worked. The older man broke away from his violent kiss and sent a ferocious glare at us for interrupting them. I shuffled slightly towards Suigetsu, wishing I could vanish behind him.

"What is it, Suigetsu?" He asked slowly, dangerously. The venom in his voice was chilling.

"Sorry to disturb you, Orochimaru-sama." Suigetsu said politely, as he stepped away from me, placed a hand on my back, and gave me a tiny shove forwards. "But I brought that friend I told you about. Uchiha Sasuke."

Orochimaru's eyes lost their angry glow almost instantly, as he inspected me with a slow and critical eye. He stood, dropping his hands from the boy's backside, who frowned in disappointment. Orochimaru glanced at him and sharply said, "You may go."

Without complaint, the boy turned and walked to the door. He sent Suigetsu and me a jealous, angry glare as he walked past. Suigetsu grinned at him, victoriously.

When the door shut and the three of us were alone, Orochimaru walked to the front of the desk and continued to watch me. I avoided his stare, opting to stare at the ground instead.

A vile smirk stretched across the man's pale face as he stepped towards me and reached out his hand. I looked at it, as if it would infect me upon contact, and then I gathered my courage and looked up at him. He smiled creepily, and opened his hand to me.

"Nice to meet you, _Sasuke-kun._" He slithered, his eyes flashed with something I couldn't place.

I saw the look of seriousness on Suigetsu's face, and he gestured for me to take Orochimaru's hand. So I did.

"Likewise." I said, quietly.

I tried to ignore the subtle feeling of his fingers caressing the back of my hand lightly before he let go. That same creepy smirk still graced his features as he turned and went back to his desk, taking his seat on his large cushioned chair.

"Well, boys, what can I do for you?" he asked as he folded his hands across his desk. Suigetsu seemed to return the smile.

"Sasuke was thinking of trying some speed." Suigetsu answered for me. Orochimaru raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Well, I'd be more than happy to provide you." He opened a drawer on his desk, "For a price, of course."

Suigetsu looked at me expectantly, and a feeling of dread and relief filled my chest. "I don't have any money."

Suigetsu's head snapped back towards me in shock, mouth hanging open. "What?! What do you mean, you don't have any money?!" He exclaimed, displeased.

I shrugged. "Just what I said. I don't have any money."

Suigetsu's face had turned a dark pink in anger and humiliation, "You should have mentioned that earlier, dumbass!"

I smirked at the flustered look on his face. Suigetsu was just way too entertaining sometimes. "Guess I wasn't thinking things through."

"Damn right you weren't!"

"Now, boys…" Orochimaru called gently; menacingly. "There's no need to get so worked up. I'm sure we can work something out."

I looked at him, ignoring Suigetsu's vengeful glare. "How did you know about my mother?" I asked, demandingly. Suigetsu seemed taken aback by the tone of superiority in my voice. Orochimaru just _smirked_.

"Your father, Fugaku, has been a loyal employee of mine for many years."

The room went silent, as I processed his words.

"You're my Dad's boss?" I asked, disbelievingly. Orochimaru nodded; smirk widening.

"That's right."

I didn't say anything, as Orochimaru pulled a bag of small white pills from his drawer, stood up, and sauntered over to stand in front of me. He opened the bag, pulled out a single pill, took my hand, and placed the pill in my palm. I looked up at him, and Suigetsu watched, anticipating the outcome.

"Try this. It's amphetamine." He grinned, maliciously. "It helps with emotional pain, as well.

Sceptically, and mistrusting, I narrowed my eyes. "But I don't have any money." I said again, hoping he and Suigetsu both would forget this entire thing.

"Don't worry about that…" he purred, letting his hand trail slowly from my mine, up my chest to my neck, where he grabbed my chin. I held my breath, as he leaned in close, his cold breath ghosted over my lips. Then he whispered,

"There are other ways you can repay me."

~~~*~~~

**Author's Note: **Evil cliff-hanger!! :D I'm sorry this chapter was late. I've been very busy lately, (I got a new little brother!! :DDD) so I didn't have a lot of time to write. But this chapter is longer than the rest; I hope that makes up for it. :) Thank you for reading, reviewing, and favourite-ing!


	6. Four Nights of Forgetting

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter 5 – Four Nights of Forgetting~

~~~*~~~

"You seem uncertain."

"I've never done anything like this before," I admitted, grabbing his wrist that gripped my chin.

"If it eases your mind," the man hissed; his eyes glistened, "Amphetamine is a medical drug originally, and it helps treat depression and insomnia."

"Insomnia?" I asked, my attention caught.

He smirked.

"Yes." He leaned in close again, almost pressing his lips beside mine. "It's a wonderful cure for those who can't sleep."

_Take it._

_It's only once._

_Don't you want to sleep again?_

_And dream again?_

Orochimaru stepped back, releasing me from his eerie grip. He watched me, his eyes not leaving my face as I contemplated the little white cure in my hand.

It's better than cutting, right?

This way, nobody has to know.

Warning bells; sharp alarms rang through my head in manic protest. I longed to silence them, and yet, something stronger (louder) inside compelled me toward compliancy.

In a desperate last attempt, I asked myself: What would Itachi say?

_What makes you think he cares?_

_He doesn't care about you._

_He doesn't care._

Suigetsu watched eagerly as well. His eyes, pale blue and teal, filled with impatience.

"Don't forget our promise, Sasuke."

_You have nothing left to lose._

XXX

This feeling… what is it?

I thought these walls were grey.

But they're not grey at all.

They're white.

In fact, _everything _is white.

Suigetsu, and that strange, _pleased_ look on his face. The older man; what was his name again? His white face and white hands and white hair. He looked pleased, too.

Oh, wait. No. Not white. Everything's grey. And melting. The walls are dripping. Flooding? No, the ceiling is flooding. The walls are smoke. Is the floor burning? No, not the floor. His hands. They burn.

They're touching me. My hands. No, that's not my hand. That's my leg. No, my _thigh_. Why is he touching that? Where are my pants?

I was lying on something. A couch? Since when was there a couch in here? The couch is melting.

The man said something. He's on top of me. Suigetsu is leaving. And smiling. Orochimaru is smiling, too. We're all smiling. No, wait, Suigetsu! Don't go, don't leave me here!

He's saying something again. And touching me. His lips burn. My body feels so hot. God, it burns… I wish the walls would melt on me and put the fire out.

But then I'd drown.

In the white walls.

No, Sasuke. No. They're grey.

"You seem quite content, _Sasuke-kun_."

"Ugh… you lied to me… you didn't say… that I'd… it burns…"

He chuckled. His mouth burns. It's touching my neck. No, my chest. Where is my shirt?

"I'm sorry for deceiving you." He touched something. Oh God, what is that? Feels so good… but damn, it burns!

"Ngh!" I groaned. No, that wasn't me; that was my body. Why does the couch feel hot? It's supposed to feel cool. It's melting. Where are my clothes?

"I'll give you all the drugs you need," he whispered, his hands gripping my waist. They're on fire. "if you give me your body in return."

"You don't want it," I said, gasping and fisting his hair when his lips grazed my abdomen. "It's broken. It doesn't eat or sleep. And it's possessed."

"Possessed?" he repeated jokingly, lowering his lips towards my groin.

"It's not just me inside it anymore. There's someone else. Someone better. But they're evil." He looked at me. His eyes were filled with lust. My eyes were half-lidded; empty.

"Evil how?" He began to pull my boxers down, kissing the skin as it was exposed.

"It's trying to kill me. It wants me to die. But I'm the only one who can control my body." I met his curious, amused eyes. He didn't understand. "It wants me to kill myself."

"And what do _you_ want?"

"I want to sleep."

"Allow me to assist you."

He pulled out the clear plastic bag of white cures, and put one in my mouth. I swallowed it gratefully.

I let my head fall back against the arm rest. It was surprisingly solid. The rush hit me; fast and swift and full of delicious numbing power. My mind fogged; the grey walls turned white again. My body began to burn.

The ceiling flooded and the walls and couch started melting. Orochimaru was touching my cock – when did it get so hard? Where are my boxers?

I cried out; Orochimaru's hands were traveling all over me, in places they shouldn't. It was strange. I wanted him to stop. But the burning sensation, the melting couch, and the white walls all told me to let him keep going.

"I know how you must be feeling,"

His voice was like a snake's venom, rushing through my veins as fast as the drugs I had ingested. It was low and yet it thundered – lust-ridden, yet sharp. It was soft but not at all comforting. If anything, the hidden tone was nothing short of appalling.

"It must be so hard for you, little Sasuke. To be guilty of something so horrible,"

His hands were trailing up and down my thighs, as his mouth toyed with the skin next to my hardened length. With my head thrown back, face flushed, and eyes shut, the only word that really registered in my mind was _guilty._

"What?" I managed to stutter, as the burning in my body began to dull, and my muscles began to feel weak and heavy.

"I don't know what I would do if I was in your position," he continued, lowering his head further on the inside of my thighs, rubbing his hands gently up to my hips and caressing them with his cold, tormenting fingers. "if I was responsible for my own mother's death."

At this I froze. My hands tightened their clutch on the rough material beneath me, and my appendages began to shake with a sudden violence. My body tensed and Orochimaru realized – his head raised and he stared at me straight in the eyes. Mockingly. Cruelly.

"What did you just say?"

My voice was so quiet, and the air, was thicker than blood itself. Orochimaru smirked, victoriously, as he leaned in close to my face, making his words resonate that much louder.

"You have every right to feel guilty." the tip of his nose brushed against mine, and suddenly, I felt threatened by everything around me. This man. His hands. The drugs and the sober that were invading me. This place and the people outside the door – all of it. It was a threat.

I wasn't safe, not in the slightest.

"After all, you let her die, didn't you? That's just as bad as killing her yourself."

Stop it.

I wanted to scream, and hit him. I wanted to lash out, and I wanted to run. I wanted to be back home, locked away, in my sanctuary that was dark and warm. The motherly solitude I loved – I _needed _it now. I had to get away, anywhere, anyone, anything but this. Not like this, God, not now…

_I already know that._

_I already know._

He leaned in just a little closer; his eyes glistened menacingly. Malevolently.

"You don't deserve to be forgiven, do you?"

_I know._

His words rang in my head, but the initial shock didn't last as a piercing ring broke the painful silence. It took me a moment to recognize the distinct ring of my cell phone, still buried within my pants' pockets.

Orochimaru sat back and let me up to reach for my trousers abandoned on the floor. In the process I pulled my boxers up from my lower thighs, in an attempt to shield my naked glory from his scrutinizing gaze.

I fished my still ringing phone from my pocket and flipped it open, pressing it eagerly to my ear. Anything to distract me from Orochimaru and his mind-raping choice of dialogue.

"Hello?"

"_Sasuke?"_

Shit. Itachi. The last thing I needed…

Still, in some way, I was grateful.

"What?"

"_Where are you? You're late. I thought you'd be home hours ago."_

I looked around the room mutely, as if I was trying to remember where exactly I was. I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him that I was somewhere in the heart of Tokyo, in a high-class bar that doesn't check for ID, currently being molested by my Dad's boss and a drug-dealing pedophile.

He wouldn't be impressed.

"At a friend's."

"_Who?"_

I grit my teeth in a frustrated manner.

"None of your business."

My tone was cold. I heard Itachi sigh, quietly, dejectedly.

"_I made dinner," _His voice was quiet and pleading. Why did he sound like that? I didn't like it. _"Will you be home soon?"_

"Yeah," I said, momentarily catching Orochimaru's gaze as I grabbed my pants and began to slip them on. "I'm leaving right now."

"_Okay. See you soon, then."_

"Bye." I flipped my phone shut, shoving it into my pocket again as I pulled my hooded sweatshirt over top of my naked torso, cramming my T-shirt into my backpack that was abandoned at the door. I stood and looked at Orochimaru for only a moment, before looking back at the door and reaching for the handle. "I have to go."

"Wait."

My hand on the doorknob stilled as a tremor went up my spine. I heard Orochimaru stand from the couch and approach me from behind, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around to face him as he closed in on me. To my surprise and relief, he made no move to touch me, save for slipping the bag of acid pills into my tense hands.

"Consider it a gift," he whispered, in a venomous way. "You'll be pleasantly surprised at how effective it can be against a guilty conscience."

"I'm sure you hand them out to every ex-convict that has spare change or an unsatisfied libido." I glared at him but he only smirked, as I shoved the pills forcefully into my pocket. We didn't say anything more as I wrenched the door open and fled, gracefully, towards the exit. As I passed the gang of druggies from earlier I noticed; Suigetsu was too high to even realize I was leaving.

_You couldn't blame me._

_Not nearly as much as I blame me._

XXX

By the time I arrived to my front door, the sky was dark. But I was shocked to see the lights were on. Mom never used to leave them on, even when she was in the kitchen or living room waiting for me. She didn't care for the house to be bright.

Itachi, apparently, was different.

I could see him now that I was close to the front window. He was sitting at the dining room table, alone, with a full-course meal placed neatly on the table. His face looked pale and overtired, though that was expected. He probably had been working all day long.

The most painful thing about it was when I realized that Itachi had been waiting for me this whole time, alone. There were two plates at the table. One was in front of Itachi. The other was in front of an empty seat.

Hesitantly I pushed the door open, embracing the sudden current of warm air that washed over me. As I slipped my shoes off, I heard Itachi stand up from the dining room, and then he poked his head out from the doorway. He smiled when I looked at him.

"Welcome back," he said as he stepped down into the foyer, still smiling. "Are you hungry?"

I wanted to say no, really I did, but I couldn't shoot him down when he was smiling like that. Especially not when I knew, that that smile, was something he was forcing upon himself, for my sake.

"Yeah," I tried to smile back, awkwardly. "Smells good. What did you make?"

"_Okonomiyaki._" Itachi said as he headed towards the dining room with me following close behind him. I sat down across from him, noticing that his plate had been completely untouched. He sat down as well and began to eat, a peaceful look returning to his visage, successfully masking the exhausted look from earlier.

"Did you have a good day?" He asked, taking another bite of his homemade meal.

"Fabulous." I muttered, not even bothering to hide my imminent sarcasm.

Itachi didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled.

"You look tired," he remarked, caringly. "you should get to bed early tonight."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, setting my fork down when I finished eating. "We'll see."

"Do you want to try sleeping together again tonight?" He asked, somewhat sheepishly. A part of me did. A part of me wanted to feel Itachi's body heat next to mine, as I lay awake with my thoughts. But a stronger, darker part of me wanted to be left alone. When you can't sleep, solitude is the next best thing.

But then I remembered, that buried within my pocket, a bag of amphetamine lay waiting. It could treat insomnia, right? Maybe I would sleep tonight. If I took one, maybe I could sleep, and Itachi could rest easy, knowing I was okay now.

Or at least, _believing _that I was okay now.

"Okay."

XXX

I finished brushing my teeth, spitting the last of my minty saliva down the sink. As I sat up and stared at myself in the mirror, I let my mind wander back and forth between conflicting thoughts.

If Itachi knew, he would be disappointed.

Father would be disappointed.

Naruto would be disappointed.

Everyone would be _ashamed_. Of me. And my weaknesses.

But that's okay, isn't it?

Aren't I used to that already?

I'm used to people feeling ashamed of my weaknesses and shortcomings. Hating me. Blaming me.

"_You don't deserve to be forgiven, do you?"_

I pulled the clear plastic bag out of my pocket and stared at the small, white, round pills.

There were four. Four nights of sleep. Of rest. Of peace. 

_Four nights of forgetting._

I held a single pill in the palm of my hand, evaluating it. What could it hurt? What could it really do?

_At the time, I didn't—couldn't—believe that they could make everything worse._

_I just didn't realize how frighteningly soft rock bottom actually is._

I threw my head back and tossed the pill to the back of my throat, swallowing it one gulp.

Then I exited the bathroom and marched down the hallway to the door on the left, where Itachi laid in bed, waiting for me.

XXX

Itachi's body was warm, I noticed. I didn't expect it to be so invitingly comforting. I didn't think I'd ever enjoy being held. But here I was, lying next to my sleeping elder brother, wrapped lazily in his arms. And I was enjoying it.

Was Itachi's bedroom always this colourful? Was his skin always so bright? And his lips – were they always such an erotic shade of pinkish red?

I didn't know what I was thinking anymore.

It was all just a dream, anyways. Probably. Hopefully.

But goddamn his lips looked soft. Soft, warm, gentle. Just like Itachi. I moved my gaze up to the rest of his face, and began studying him as a hole. He was beautiful; handsome like my father, but not nearly as bullish. He had my mother's delicate grace. He was perfect. Everything about him was perfect. And damn it, even I had missed him.

My eyes dampened as tears welled up, at the thought of how long it had been since I was with him again. Fate was cruel to us, to reunite us at the brink of despair.

_A blessing disguised as a curse._

_People don't always know when they're happy._

Temptation clouded my judgement, as I leant up and pressed my lips gently against his. As I did so, a thin stream of tears poured from the corners of my eyes. I sat up, leaning over my brother, and wiped the tears away. They did not come again.

I bent down, and pressed my lips against his once more, making sure not to press too hard for fear of waking him. He seemed to be sleeping heavily, so I let my curious hands trail over his clothed torso. I began kissing his cheeks and jaw delicately, letting my hand stray down to the hem of his shirt and ghost over the soft skin of his abdomen.

My other hand pulled his shirt collar down as I chastely kissed down his neck, stopping above his collarbone. I lifted his shirt all the way to the base of his neck, exposing his chest to my lustful eyes.

God, he was beautiful. Perfect.

_Mine._

I licked around his pectoral muscles, revelling in the way they tensed beneath my hot, wet tongue. I sucked one of Itachi's nipples into my awaiting mouth, gently pulling on the other one with my eager fingers. When the nipple was fully erect I pulled back slightly, and licked at it teasingly, smirking in victory when Itachi moaned in his sleep.

I quickly switched to the other one, stroking my first victim with the corresponding hand. As I lavished all my devotion upon my brother's erect nipples at God-knows-how-late in the morning, I felt a shudder rip through my body when my cock twitched, half-hardened from my devious actions.

And like that I was snapped from my drug-induced state of horniness, pulling back as fast as I could and scooting away from my slumbering older brother, who laid before me, chest bared and nipples erect and mouth hung open in blissful pleasure.

I couldn't believe it.

I thought the drugs could do no harm – and yet, they made me almost commit the biggest taboo in human history.

I had just molested my own brother in his sleep.

I sat there for hours, until the sun began to rise. I hadn't slept. I hadn't even laid down. When I finally got over my shock and disgust, I pulled my brother's shirt down and promptly left the room.

I headed straight for the bathroom and for a hot shower, banishing the immoral thoughts from my mind.

The guilt was maddening.

_Yes, Itachi is perfect. And you, Sasuke, are the embodiment of corrupt, depraved immorality._

_Orochimaru was right._

_Forgiveness is the last thing you deserve._

~~~*~~~

_Okonomiyaki:_ A traditional pancake-like Japanese cuisine, made from eggs and vegetables and (usually) chicken.

XXX

**Author's Note: **Bah! This chapter is late. Sorry about that, loves. Hope you enjoyed. Drugs are bad. Don't do them.

Oh, and I want to make a quick mention of the frequently aforementioned drug in this story, _amphetamine. _Originally, amphetamine was used to treat people with ADD by slowing them down enough to be civil. It's kind of like a relaxant. But at the same time, it's very similar to acid, as it causes hallucinations and colour distortions (in some cases). Side-effects include changes in sexual tendencies, eating habits, sleeping habits, and sometimes unhealthy weight loss/gain. Street names include: 'amphies', 'speed', 'acid', 'torch', and 'dust'. It can be swallowed or crushed into a powder and snorted. It's not as dangerous as heroin or cocaine but it's still bad. Mkay? Hope that clears up any confusion.


	7. Dreaming Wide Awake

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Six – Dreaming Wide Awake~

~~~*~~~

I laid on the couch, facing the TV which was turned off. The soft, morning sunlight trickled in through the thin cream-coloured window drapery, making the room feel peaceful.

The memory of last night was a little foggy, but I knew what I had done. I had used my older brother as an instrument of sexual release, while he _slept. _I'd never been so ashamed. And the one terrifying thought that plagued me, was what if my mother, from wherever she may be, had paid witness to it? She'd be rolling in her grave. Or worse, she'd never speak to me in the afterlife, if there is such a thing.

So I stayed where I was on the couch, completely motionless. I wanted to leave, but I didn't want to go to school today. Despite how badly I didn't want to face Itachi, I wasn't in the mood for Naruto or Sakura either. And definitely not Suigetsu. Itachi would let me, I knew he would. But that probably meant spending the entire day with him.

The silence was broken when some quiet noises erupted from upstairs, followed by the hushed creak of someone descending the staircase. Itachi emerged from the top floor, already showered and dressed, a towel hanging over his shoulders as his hair drip-dried onto it.

"Good morning, Sasuke." He greeted, stopping at the bottom stair to glance at my motionless form on the couch.

"I'm not going to school," I said, quietly. My voice sounded angry, but I was more exhausted than anything. I wanted to rest, and be alone, but neither of those things seemed open to me today.

"…Feeling sick?" He asked, and then I noticed, abruptly, that he was standing right behind the couch, leaning over it to touch my forehead with his slender, cool hand. I flinched at the sudden contact, swivelling my body to stare at him in apprehension. He smiled and withdrew his hand, heading towards the kitchen.

"I'll call the school."

My eyes gently shut as I rolled onto my side again, facing away from the kitchen. When I knew Itachi was speaking on the phone, I dulled the sound, fabricating my own little dream-like state of mind. I had practice doing that – it was a valued skill of mine. Blocking out reality.

Dreaming, wide awake.

My mind was fuzzy; clouded by my sheer exhaustion and the slow, piercing whirlwind of thoughts inside my head. Like a drunken stupor, induced only by my will to escape, and before my (_closed_) eyes I saw a haze of colours; blending, morphing, floating through the infinite black space I had lost myself in.

Even as the whirls of colours began to take shape, and form into familiar things that put me at ease, part of my mind was lodged into the world of the living, keeping me awake like a last lifeline. That tiny thread, my paranoia, was the only thing keeping me awake as the hurricane of hazy illusion pulled me, invited me, into unconsciousness.

But then my mind trance was broken, as a large hand with long, slender fingers rested atop my head, gently stroking my hair. Invasive, I thought, snapping my eyes open and staring cautiously up at Itachi, who was sitting on the couch's armrest next to my head, petting my hair.

"Did I wake you?" he whispered gently, smiling at me again. My eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before I sat up, preparing to go upstairs and lock my door.

To my surprise, Itachi mistook my movement for an invitation, and sat in the now unoccupied seat. I tensed, as he leant backwards gradually, and his thigh was brushing against mine.

"I spoke to your school counsellor," he said, placing his hand on my back, right below my neck. His fingers gently stroked my spine through my shirt, and I suppressed a shudder.

"She wants you to go and see her when you go back to school." I hunched forward, trying to escape his comforting gesture, but it followed me. I rested my elbows on my knees, covering my face with my hands. It was a cowardly posture – but I knew that anyone else would mistake it for weariness.

"Sasuke?" Itachi called gently, and I felt him shift to lean forward just a bit. His hand trailed down my back, then back up, and across to the side of my neck, where his fingertips barely graced my skin.

I shivered, just a bit, feeling his cool skin against mine. But then, Itachi did the unthinkable – he moved forward, suddenly, pressing his body against mine, and his breath splayed against my cheek. His lips, only an inch from mine, parted slightly, and his hand moved from my cheek to my lower back, bracing me, as his other hand rested on my thigh, too high up for comfort.

I suppose, to an outsider, it would look as though Itachi was giving me some sort of weird side-hug. But our close proximately was much less innocent. Memories of the previous night invaded me; I stopped breathing, clenched my hands into fists, and then Itachi quietly murmured,

"Are you okay?"

Fucking prick.

His warm breath felt cool when it ghosted over my cheek and neck, and then I realized, Itachi was not being flirtatious on purpose. His eyes were concerned, and blank as though he were deep in thought, and in his mind he was merely being the big brother comforting the littler brother going through a tough time.

"Yeah, fine." I growled, quietly, standing up briskly to detach his hands and breath and… _seduction, _from my body.

Itachi was silent as his eyes followed me, hastily making my way up the stairs. Once at the top I bolted – straight for my bedroom – and then I slammed the door closed and locked it, leaning against the heavy wooden frame as I attempted to catch my breath and slow my heart down.

I was out of breath because I had realized, with great contempt, that that small moment of affection between my brother and I had resulted in the start of a very unwanted erection.

Covering my face with my hands, I slid down to the floor, pulling my knees against my chest and burying my face behind them. I stayed that way, breathing slow and deep, until my erection withered away.

XXX

"You have ants."

Her eyes were glassy. Her hair was the colour and texture of straw, falling all over the place. Her round Librarian glasses were hanging on the tip of her nose carelessly, and her round, portly body stretched the chair she was sitting on to its limit, as if it would break.

"Ants." I replied, quiet and deadly – the only way I knew how to communicate with idiots like my school counsellor.

"Automatic Negative Thoughts." She answered, smiling, revealing her large, grotesque, discoloured teeth. She may have once been beautiful – before she grew old, fat, and menopausal. Still, that was no excuse for her to dress like a potato farmer and try to relate to people like me who just wanted her to shut the hell up.

"Last time I checked, that was called pessimism."

"Which seems to be your default outlook on life."

"Isn't it everyone's?"

She sighed, swivelling in her chair to face her desk, and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen off the desktop. She began scribbling something swiftly, not so much as looking at me as she did so. I slouched further against the cushiony chair, crossing my arms tighter across my chest.

"Sasuke-kun, I want you to start seeing a grief counsellor." She handed me a slip of paper, and through her messy penmanship, I could make out the skewed indication of a street address.

"This is the place I think would assist you best." She smiled. False and disgusting. "I'll call your father and speak to him about it. If he has no objections, then I'll call them and we'll make an appointment. Sound good?"

I didn't have a chance to say anything, not that I was going to. She already had the phone in her hand and was dialling the number.

"Hello, Fugaku-san? … Oh, Itachi-san, hello again. … I'm fine thank you. Itachi-san, is your father at home by any chance? … Oh, I see. All right. … Yes, I have Sasuke-kun here with me right now, and we were just discussing some alternative counselling methods. … Are you sure? … I see. All right then, Itachi-san, thank you. I'll give them a call. … You too. Bye."

Then she hung up, spun around to smile at me, and a nauseas feeling spiked in the pit of my stomach at the look of pure infatuation spread across her wrinkly, chubby face.

"You're brother is a true gentlemen."

I scowled death at her.

Of course, she didn't notice. Instead she reached for the phone again, letting her serious business-face grace her features.

XXX

The end of the day came much too slowly. As everyone bustled about, scrambling to exit the building, I stood patiently at my locker, trying to find my notebook, when an unexpected presence moved beside me. I looked up, irritably, shocked to see Naruto standing there at my side. His hands were crossed across his chest, and his eyes were screwed shut as they sometimes were, and his inferior lip was jutting out in a childish pout.

I stared at him for moment, tempted to just walk away from his immature attempt at looking angry, when his eyes snapped open and then his fist collided directly with my collarbone. Startled, and in a bit of pain, I quickly backed up; my hand yanking on the strap of my backpack that was hanging in my locker, and as I unintentionally pulled it free, the contents of my locker spilled onto the floor. Absentmindedly, I took notice of the notebook I'd been looking for lying in the middle of the scattered objects.

"What was that for, you damned idiot?" I growled, annoyed, as I bent down to gather the items in my hands and swiftly shoved them back into place. He didn't move or say anything until I was standing again, swinging my backpack over my shoulder, and slamming the door shut.

"_That _was for ignoring me and Sakura-chan for the past three days."

"You were ignoring me too, you know." I muttered, adjusting the loose strap of my bag.

"That's because you're a jerk."

I glanced at him through narrowed eyes, daring him to make another smart-ass comment. He didn't though – he knew I could easily pommel him into a pile of bloody mush.

"So is that all you wanted to say?" I asked, about to turn away from him.

"No," he said. I halted. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to come hang out for awhile." his eyes lowered, just slightly, towards the ground. "We haven't spent much time together lately."

Before I could say no, like I knew I should have, Naruto looked up at me through those big blue eyes and I was trapped. I _hated _it when he looked at me like. Mostly because when he did, he could manipulate me to do just about anything.

"Sure," I sighed, pivoting to stand beside him as he stepped towards me. "but just for a little while."

He grinned, wrapping his arm casually around my shoulder. I took a step and then paused when I saw the grin vanish from his face, replaced by a look of terror, and his skin paled.

"Oh shit!" he suddenly exclaimed, grabbing my wrist tightly in his hand and pulling me towards to the exit, "We're gonna miss the bus!"

"Naruto," I hissed, "your house is a fifteen minute walk away."

He slowed his near-sprint to a fast walk, and turned to gaze at me with wide, baffled eyes.

"_Exactly!_"

XXX

I didn't necessarily like Naruto's house, but I didn't despise it either. Going to other people's houses usually made me feel… uneasy, like I'm lacking security or something. But it was different with Naruto's house. Maybe I was just so used to being there, since we used to hang out there all time. Or maybe my natural cocky attitude refused to let me feel insecure towards a dweeb like Naruto.

His house was really more like a townhouse, but he and his grandfather owned it. It was small, and crowded, and more often than not it was messy beyond belief. But the atmosphere itself; the feeling it gave you being inside, was homey. It was a delicate feeling, and not one I was accustomed to.

Only Naruto's house felt like this. I wish mine felt this way as well – homey. Welcoming.

His _bedroom_, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

Piles of dirty clothes and garbage and unwashed dishes as far as the eye could see – which was about an inch from your face, considering the piles almost reached the ceiling. Naruto opened the door and grinned, sheepishly. His face turned red when he saw my look of complete dissatisfaction at his living quarters.

"It's not really as bad as it looks," he said, manoeuvring through the stacks of filth over to his TV, and he began unhooking his playstation.

"I just hope it's not as bad as it _smells._" I said. He grinned again, his blush darkening, and his arms were full with the large plastic box and wires and cords were falling all over the place. On top of the electronic device, there was a pile of controllers, games, and a few movies. I felt nervous watching him carry it all, knowing what a complete klutz that idiot was.

"Come on, we'll play in the living room."

I followed behind him warily, impressed that he hadn't dropped and broken anything yet. I flopped onto the couch opposite the television as Naruto set it up, then he stood and tossed a controller my way, taking a seat next to me on the old sofa.

"Where's the old man?" I asked, watching the screen as the title sequence played.

"Probably out researching for his latest novel." Naruto said, rapidly pressing buttons to skip through boring cutscenes.

"You need to teach him how to use a computer," I replied, skimming through a list of characters to choose from. "It's a lot easier to look at porn on the internet than in a bookstore."

"You would know." He was grinning again, as his fingers began stabbing the buttons repeatedly, trying to block himself from my onslaught of vicious attacks.

After half an hour of the worst defeat in gaming history (on Naruto's part) we decided to watch a movie instead. We each had our own end of the couch, curled up against the pillows and cushions leisurely. The first scene had begun playing when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, and when I saw my own house number printed on the small screen, I pressed and held the little button to turn my cell phone off.

Naruto's eyes watched me shove it back into my pocket, but he didn't say anything, to my relief. Then half a minute later, he looked up and asked, "You're not going to get in trouble, are you?"

I turned away from the screen to stare at him, mutely. "What for?"

"Coming here without asking your parents."

"You know my dad doesn't care." I said.

"What about your mom?"

I didn't say anything, I just kept looking at him. My chest tightened; my throat caved in, as if it had swelled too tight for me breathe. My hands had been resting on my lap, but then they clenched violently, digging my nails into my flesh through my pants.

He was looking at me so expectantly, waiting for me to tell him that everything would be fine because my mother wouldn't notice I was missing – the very same thing I always used to say whenever he asked.

I wouldn't be lying… but I wouldn't be telling the truth, either.

_My mother's dead._

Those three words, I just had to say those three words, and then I wouldn't be lying. But I didn't want to go through this right now. I didn't want to deal with another, 'Oh my god, you poor thing, I'm so sorry' bullshit story. And I didn't want to deal with Naruto throwing an angry fit, demanding to know why I didn't tell him sooner.

"She won't notice."

My voice was so quiet and strained that I was almost surprised when Naruto believed me. The movie kept playing in the background even though neither of us looked away from the other. Finally, I couldn't stare into his eyes anymore, and I gingerly turned my head back towards the screen.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

And then he was too close – just as Itachi had been too close that morning. Naruto was leaning over me, hovering and watchful like a predator. His eyes filled with worry – as if I had screamed for him to help me.

"Yeah, why?" I put my palm flat against his chest, forcing him to keep a minimal distance.

"You just seem… I dunno, depressed lately. Like something really bad happened."

I was impressed that Naruto had noticed something I thought I could hide so well. I looked away again, feeling my hand slip from his chest as he backed up.

"Nothing happened. I'm just under a lot of stress lately."

Naruto smiled, gently. "That's because you never leave your house. You're turning into a hermit like my grandpa!"

"Except I don't look at porn when _I'm _home alone." I smirked at him, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his skull. "I'm calling bullshit on that one. I bet you're secretly a huge pervert." A smug smile stretched across his tanned baby face.

"And I bet _you're _secretly a huge Britney Spears' fan who used to do ballet and pretend you were a princess."

"Only on weekends." he winked, and laughed, and then yelped when I threw a pillow at his face. He threw it back, and I caught it, but then he threw another, which hit me square in the face. And then the war was on.

By the time we realized the movie was over, the house was completely trashed. Well, trashed even more than it already was. Thankfully we managed not to break anything. _This_ time.

I scooped my backpack off the floor and slung it over my shoulder, slipping my shoes on at the same time. Naruto stood behind me, waiting patiently until I was ready to say goodbye.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay? It's already getting dark."

"I'll manage," I said, straightening myself with one hand on the doorknob. "Are you sure you're gonna be able to clean this place before Jiraiya gets back?"

Naruto smiled, shoving an obnoxious thumbs-up in my face. "Believe it!"

Ashamed, I rolled my eyes and yanked the door open. "See you tomorrow, you loser." I looked back at him as he stood in the doorway, sticking his tongue out at me. "And… thanks."

Then I shut the door, and began walking home.

~~~*~~~

**Author's Note: **Late chapter is late. D: I'm sorry guys. I made you wait quite a while this time around. I try to give myself deadlines, but I think it defies the purpose if I can extend it whenever I please. :/ Meh. Thanks for reading, and thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!


	8. The Taste of Regret

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Seven – The Taste of Regret~

* * *

The rooms hidden away behind 'Sound' club had a particularly nasty feel to them. They felt like the rooms of a cheap motel, which surprised me, considering how rich Orochimaru must have been. If he owned the Technology & Computers manufacturing company my dad worked for, he should have enough money to make his own business quarters more suitable. But then again, he probably didn't want to waste money on drug addicts and thugs.

"So you enjoyed my gift, I see."

He was circling around me like a lion ready to pounce. I stood motionless in the center of his dreary little office, carefully observing his moves, preparing for an attack if need be. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides. Would he be satisfied with the money I had taken from my father's secret stash? Or would he demand I pay him with the same type of revolting currency as before?

"It helped me sleep," I admitted, pointing my gaze to meet his, "though the side effects were unpleasant."

A grin spread across his face at my confession. That wicked gleam in his eyes, that could be a signature, flared as he trailed his eyes from my face to my groin and back again. His hand seemed to twitch as he stood there surveying me, halted in his pacing cycle. When those gleaming serpent eyes began to overbear me, I turned my head away, keeping my chin high to seem as less submissive as possible.

Orochimaru began to take lecherous steps forward.

"Sasuke-kun, were you able to vent your frustrations properly?"

Before I could stop and think, to stop myself, I blurted out, "What frustrations?" and that made Orochimaru's grin widen, as he stepped close to me, bent down to slither into my ear like the vermin he was, "_This,_" and then he trailed a hand from my thigh to my lower stomach, purposely dragging his fingers between my legs and overtop my clothed manhood.

My teeth gnashed together harshly, as I suppressed the reflex to drive my fist into his temple. I had already given him the fifty dollars I stole – why the fuck wasn't he giving me my pills? I just wanted to be out of here; get it over and done with so that I could go home, lock myself in my room, and fall into chemical-induced euphoria.

"Yes," I answered a bit quickly, and in a foul tone. Whatever, it's not like I owe this perverted fucker any respect. It would be child's play to have him arrested for pedophilia and marketing street drugs.

"I don't need any more favours," I snarled, swatting his hand away from my stomach. "I've paid you, so hand over the amphetamine and I'll be going."

"You seem to be in a hurry," He replied with a smirk, bringing his hand back to trail up and down my chest, ignoring my warning glare. "Why so anxious?"

"I don't like fucking around."

Bad choice of words, apparently, if Orochimaru's feral grin was any indication. He was so close to me, I could see the inside of his mouth, like the dark cave from a horror film. Pointy teeth, slick dark tongue, never-ending tunnel… yeah, the view wasn't helping my mood too much.

"Do you do a lot of 'fucking around', Sasuke-kun?" He asked coyly, trailing the contour of my neck with his fingertip, watching the slight tremors in my skin as he touched me. It wasn't my fault, really, it wasn't. The drugs did something to my nerves; made me more sensitive, and much more responsive to physical contact.

Damn him for going for my neck – one of the most sensitive places on my body.

"I was under the impression you were a virgin," Orochimaru muttered, lifting the hem of my shirt with his other hand. "Looks like I won't get to be your first, what a shame."

"I _am _a—" I stopped myself, seeing the gleam in his eyes, but the damage had been done. Bitter and humiliated, I looked away from him, feeling my cheeks warm with the embarrassment of confessing something like that to this fucking pervert.

"Well I'm glad to hear it!" his hands were being adventurous now; pressing firmly against my taut, undefined abdominal muscles. His grin was as wide as the Joker's, his eyes gleaming with dishonest intentions. I wondered why it was, that I couldn't find my voice around this man. His face, his hands, his presence, were all very suffocating, like I was trapped in his spider web of deadly seduction. This was odd to me, because I considered him to be revolting and sinister, not seductive. Perverted was a much better adjective.

"You're quite responsive, aren't you." my thoughts were disturbed by the fingers eagerly undoing the front of my jeans. My legs were trembling, my heart was racing, my hands were looking for something to grab on to. Orochimaru unzipped and opened my pants with ease, stopping briefly to lift the front of my shirt up most of my chest. "Why don't you take this off, hm?"

All my protests were silenced by meeting his gaze; his cold yet fiery stare that demanded obedience. My shirt was lifted over my head, as I rolled my shoulders to let it slip and hit the floor. He wasted no time in beckoning me towards the small sofa again, pressing me down on to the cushions with his body. I kept my hands firmly on his shoulders, maintaining distance, but he didn't seem to notice as his hands were busy undressing my lower half.

I held my breath, staring blankly at the ceiling as my pants and boxers left my body and hit the floor noisily. His hands began touching me; trailing bony fingers up and down my thighs and caressing my shaft with amazing skill. I didn't move, or protest as I should have, as life and excitement began to swell in my stomach and manhood, making my body tremble. I closed my eyes, feeling his hands pull and tug at my completely erect length. The feeling was incredible; so different from any act of masturbation I'd done on my own. I knew of course, that this excessive feeling of euphoria was caused by the last of the amphetamine I'd taken on the way here.

Sometime during the last four days, I stopped taking the pills at night, and instead took them at school or on the way home. For whatever reason it made it easier to ignore everything around me, like putting up thick walls made of bricks on all four sides. Indifference was the best way to deal with meaningless bullshit. And drug-induced indifference was the best kind.

But this, this was the furthest thing from indifference. As the pleasure increased my body became uncontrollable; hips bucking and back arching and twisting to try and feed myself that wonderful feeling. Through my closed eyes, I could sense Orochimaru scrutinizing all of me; all of my body's reactions to the feeling of having him stroke my cock. There was no shame, nor regret, nor any other negative feeling attached to the pleasure he was giving me. But I knew, deep in my brain, that if I weren't so high off those little white pills, I'd be too disgusted with myself to enjoy it.

And then a thought hit me; a small but deadly irritating little thought. What would Itachi say? What would he do, if he saw me lying here, naked and aroused, physically begging this child molester to stroke my dick? Would he turn and leave, forever humiliated at me, or would he strike Orochimaru down in anger, and then turn those cold, condescending eyes to my blatantly aroused state, in disappointment. Would he shove all the blame and responsibility on himself, patronizing me? Or perhaps, Itachi would find himself transfixed and unable to do or say _anything_, secretly aroused at the sight of his little brother getting jacked-off my another man.

And it was that single, twisted, perverted thought that sent me over the edge. The images that came from envisioning Itachi aroused, and aroused because of _my _body and _my _pleasure and _my _cock, was enough to bring me to climax, moaning loud and freely as the sudden warmth and wetness dripped down my cock, and still the picture of Itachi was in my mind, stroking my cock as I stroked his, making both of us moan and thrust in bliss.

My hips were still moving weakly with the orgasm, trying to soak in all of the pleasure I could. Against my better judgement I opened my eyes, seeing Orochimaru wiping his hand off with a tissue he'd pulled from his pocket. He smiled and discarded the tissue, leaning down quickly to bury his face in my neck, attacking the naked skin with his lips and tongue. Out of breath and exhausted, I moaned weakly as he began to ravish the smooth, baby-soft flesh. Finding a particular sensitive place, Orochimaru latched onto it with his teeth and began to suck hungrily. The pain was minimal compared to the pleasure, and I knew that a mark would be left from his deed.

I was lost in a haze of fog and pleasure when he whispered huskily, "Let me mark you, Sasuke-kun. Let me be the first to have all of you, and confess to your father and brother that I am the one who owns you." he finished with a bite to the fresh hickey, and I groaned, feeling his teeth sink into the bruised flesh.

"Show everyone that you belong to me now."

And then his lips were on mine, prying mine open, ravishing my mouth with his long, wet tongue. I didn't move or say much, still lost in a foggy spectrum of emotion. His lips were kneading against mine; his hands were rubbing and pinching my nipples, his lower stomach was pressing against my groin.

When the kiss ended he stood and walked briskly to his desk across the room. Unmoving, my gaze didn't falter from the empty whiteness of the ceiling, still too intoxicated to think clearly. Orochimaru began rummaging through his drawers for something, then he was back on the couch leaning over me with a small bottle in his hand.

I didn't care enough to closely look at the liquid inside of the bottle, all I knew was that Orochimaru had opened it and was coating his fingers with it. He pushed my legs apart, positioning my hips in an awkward and uncomfortable way. Then he quietly spoke, "This is an aphrodisiac from India. It's not very strong for experienced adults like me, but it should do wonders for someone your age. Plus, it makes an exceptional lubrication."

I thought it was kind of strange how Orochimaru practically broadcasted that he was a pedophile. Didn't he know this kind of shit was illegal?

"This will hurt a bit," he said again, before pushing a single wet finger into my unsuspecting hole. I gasped, wriggling in discomfort, feeling that finger move and twist to accommodate another. This time I winced a bit at the pain and completely alien feeling. When the fingers began to move, scissoring, I groaned and subconsciously inched away from him, though I didn't get very far. After he added the third finger I was sweating, feeling the muscles stretch and contract around him, but oddly the pain was dull and no longer really aggravating. In fact, the more he moved his fingers, the more that aphrodisiac stuff rubbed inside me, the better it started to feel. Orochimaru witnessed this with rapture, as my look of pain turned to ambivalence and then bliss.

Not yet satisfied with my body's reactions, he withdrew his fingers and flipped me onto my stomach, forcing me to rest on my knees while my upper body pressed into the couch. My bare-end was completely exposed to him, but again, any feelings of shame were dissolved by the fake feeling of joy released in my brain. I crossed my arms and pressed my cheek against them, turning my head to watch the door silently, as Orochimaru's fingers returned to sliding in and out of my entrance. This time, they began thrusting harder and faster, and then they pressed against something just the right way, and I cried out loud and suddenly at the jolt of pleasure that ran through my whole body.

That feeling, whatever it was, was the most intense thing I'd ever felt in my entire life. Orochimaru seemed pleased with my vocalization and began thrusting with his fingers against that spot each time, until my cock felt heavy, swollen and leaking pre-ejaculation all over the velvet seats.

Then he removed the fingers, and I was panting, trying to force my body to stop trembling so much. My cock felt so hot and neglected, it was almost painful. I heard him unzip the front of his pants, and then moan softly as he coated his own erection with the nameless imported liquid.

I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance and tensed, not sure whether I should expect a lot of pain or not. As he slowly inserted his dick inside me, the pain was there, but it was clouded completely by the fuzzy and tingly feeling of the liquid heavily coating my inner walls. When I felt his groin pressed against my ass I knew he was completely inside me, and it hurt a bit more than before. But then he began to move, and as he did that special spot was continuously pressed against. I threw my head back, wrapping my arms around the armrest and digging my nails into the plush material.

I was crying out, loudly and shamelessly as he began fucking me with abandon. I shut my eyes tightly, feeling sweat drip down my face and listened to the sound of his own quiet vocalizations. The sound of our skin slapping together was loud and disruptive, but I easily blocked everything out, except the pleasure.

The Itachi-scenario returned at that moment. What would he do, watching this older man fuck me on my hands and knees? If he was aroused, what would he do? Would he shove Orochimaru away, and take his place, pounding into me with animalistic desire and passion? Gods, I hoped so. Or maybe he would take me from the front, demanding I suck his cock. Perhaps he'd just sit there and watch as he touched himself, exposing his hard-on to me in all its glory, pumping it fast and passionately until he climaxed at the sight of me; his come dripping down my face…

I was so fucking close—but then Orochimaru grabbed my cock and stroked it fervently, and I shouted in surprise and bliss and total fucking pleasure as I was pushed to my limits, climaxing for the second time that day, spilling my hot seed all over the velvet cushions and my own stomach, as my member spasmodically released in steady streams of white, searing come.

Orochimaru also moaned loudly, thrusting harder a few more times, before he released inside of me. We both rode out our orgasms, hips bucking and thrusting, before the exhaustion hit me and I collapsed; Orochimaru was barely able to hold himself up either. He slid out of me, retrieving another tissue from his shirt pocket, and began to clean off his cock and groin before pulling his pants up and re-zipping them.

I rolled onto my back and watched him as he stood. His breath was a bit heavier, but unlike me, he wasn't panting or completely out of breath. He looked at me for a moment, then leaned back down and pressed his lips to mine. My eyes felt heavy as he licked my lips, then pulled away. I let my eyes fall shut, completely tired, before I felt something soft and plastic wedge between my fingers. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to see Orochimaru pushing a little package of Kleenex tissues into my hand.

"Here," he said, standing up straight again. "Clean yourself up."

* * *

The house was empty when I arrived. Father was most likely out at the bar, and Itachi… well, who knows where he decided to go. My body was sore and exhausted; the ache in my lower back had started to intensify as soon as the drug wore off. Dragging myself up the stairs, I unconsciously went straight for Itachi's bedroom, which is where I had been staying the last few days.

I grabbed my backpack off the floor and stuffed the bag of 11 white pills into it, along with the bottle of aphrodisiac Orochimaru had given me. He said he had more where that came from, and that he wanted me to 'experiment' to find out what I liked to do. He called it _homework_.

That disgusting fucker. He probably thought this meant I liked him or something.

Once my head had cleared, I realized fully what I had done. I had given my virginity to an old pedophile drug-dealer, who was also my father's boss. I'd had sex with someone who was more than three times my age, not to mention he was as depraved as they come. He was the type of person children are taught to avoid no matter what, and I let him fuck me for a bag of drugs like some cheap whore.

Orochimaru gave me back the money. He said _friends _don't take each other's money when they do them a 'favour'.

Exhausted, I began to strip my shirt and pants until I was in only my boxers. I stuffed the money into the backpack with the drugs, but decided to retrieve the bottle of aphrodisiac. Shutting the door and turning off the lights, I laid down on the bed, glancing at the clock, the one I had brought from my room. It was only 7pm. If I was fast, I could do this without being caught.

I was already feeling hot and bothered from taking another pill on the way home. I wanted to get rid of this feeling so I could pass out for a few hours. Also, this feeling of regret and shame was suffocating me. It felt like a rope was strangling my heart inside my chest, and I hated it. I had to get rid of it before it drove me insane.

So I pulled down my boxers past my thighs, uncapped the bottle and coated three of my fingers with the colourless, odourless liquid. I closed the bottle and set it next to the clock, then sat in the middle of the bed, on my knees. Using my dry hand to brace myself, I hunched forward, letting my lubricated hand feel around for my entrance blindly.

The tingly sensation on my hand made my adrenaline pump. I found my hole after a moment of searching, and grimaced at the raw and enflamed feeling that pinched my nerves when I touched it. Gently, I rubbed the liquid on to the swollen pucker, closing my eyes as the fuzzy sensation numbed the pain, allowing me to insert the first finger.

It felt a little less weird than the last time. Gingerly and timidly, I began moving that single finger, twisting it as I remembered Orochimaru twisting it. When the drug began to work I inserted the second finger, moaning as blood rushed and filled my cock, making it stand proud and weeping. I scissored the two fingers, not waiting for the sensation to fully kick in. The raw and painful feeling wasn't so bad. Desperately I searched for that special spot, thrusting those two fingers in and out wildly.

I straightened my back, resting solely on my knees, with my free hand stroking my aching cock feverishly. I moaned loudly when I finally hit that spot, and began to press into it again and again, fucking my hand in time with my fingers. I arched my back, throwing my head back, moaning loud and without care for anyone who might hear me. This feeling was _insane. _Completely addictive and inescapable; like a poison spreading in my veins. I'd never felt so lost in a single moment.

And then the door opened, and Itachi stood there taken aback, staring in complete shock.

I didn't stop, even as he stood frozen and watching me masturbate. For a moment I thought he would leave, and I wanted to tell him to stay, but I couldn't do anything except stare and moan, and fuck myself with fervent need and desperation. What was he thinking, with those slightly widened eyes? Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he move?

And then I realized, with a disgusting sense of satisfaction, that he was staring at my hand – the one that was fucking me in the ass. And he didn't seem completely revolted. Maybe Itachi was gay, too? Or bi-curious, at the very least.

Suddenly feeling very coy and sexually powerful, I changed my position a bit, releasing my cock to brace myself against the mattress as I mimicked the earlier position I had with Orochimaru. Pressing my face against my forearm, I spread my legs, exposing my ass almost directly at the ceiling, still thrusting into myself with those two oiled fingers.

I tried going deeper each time, even when it was impossible. I heard the door shut and for a moment dread filled my chest; had Itachi left without a word? Did my plan fail? Was he disgusted with me? But then I felt the mattress dip, and I looked back and straight into the eyes of my older brother, moving to kneel behind me, still staring transfixed on my fingers sliding in and out of my asshole.

I moaned loudly when I saw him lick his lips, gaze unwavering. He grabbed my wrist firmly, stopping my hand from thrusting anymore, and I groaned in protest, moving my hips to further impale myself. Itachi pulled my hand away and I was forced to slide my fingers out from their hot, tight confines.

He seemed to notice how lubricated they were, as he began to look around, his eyes searching for the source.

"O-on the table, by the clock!" I groaned, my voice was husky and strained from the pain of being denied in this kind of state. Itachi's eyes immediately flew to the bedside table, and in an instant he had the little bottle and was pouring the clear liquid over his entire hand.

He pressed the tip of his index finger against my hole and I pressed my hips backwards, attempting to fuck myself on it. But Itachi did not like that idea, as he grabbed my hip with his free hand, forcing my hips to stop moving. I growled as he teasingly moved the tip of his finger in and out, like he was afraid of indulging either of us.

"Ugh, god damn it, hurry up!" I demanded furiously, as he continued to barely enter me with his index finger. The hand that was holding my hips still began to gently stroke them, but Itachi's voice was not gentle. No, it was deep, and a bit hoarse, and just as strained as mine. God fucking damn it, his voice alone was enough to make me climax.

"Be patient," the timbre of his voice was low, yet it reverberated sharply. I moaned a little when he spoke in that dominating way, like he was forcing me to submit to him. And that's what I wanted. In this moment, more than anything, I wanted to submit to Itachi.

"Please," I whimpered, blushing at the higher pitch of my voice, "Itachi, I need you."

And that made Itachi stop completely. For a moment I thought he'd come to his senses, but all my doubt was wiped away when he thrust two of his fingers into me at the same time, coming dangerously close to my sensitive area. Oh, but it didn't stop there. He quickly added a third finger, fucking me with all three at once. I threw my head back, my hands gripping the sheets viciously. Then he added a fourth, and I was _so fucking close_ to just losing myself.

He didn't stop thrusting as he let go of my hip to unzip his pants. Free to move, I forced my hips back against his hand wild and forcefully, meeting his thrusts with exact timing. Itachi moaned, freeing his large and weeping manhood from its confines, before he removed his fingers and kneeled directing behind me, hands grabbing my hips, the head of his cock pointed directly at my entrance.

I tried to thrust against it, but his grip was brutal and relentless. I began to whine and growl as my pleasure was denied, again. Then he said, in that undeniable, sexy voice:

"Beg for me, little brother."

And I moaned at the thought of begging my older brother to fuck me into the mattress like the horny little slut I was. So I opened my mouth and shouted, as loud and shameless as I could, "Itachi! Fuck me, please, Itachi, I need you! Please… oh God, fuck me!"

And that was all it took, and he rammed his impressive manhood inside me, brushing instantly against my pleasure place and forcing a loud moan of approval from me. I moaned and thrust against him, enjoying the feel of his hands forcing me to be impaled again and again by that enormous cock.

I loved it. Hard, fast, forceful, relentless. This was what I needed; complete and total domination.

_Erase my sins._

Itachi was being ruthless – it didn't matter to him that I could be tearing or bleeding. For whatever reason, that fact made this whole thing easier to accept. It's not like we were making love. This wasn't even intimate enough to be called casual sex. This, this was something else entirely. It was dark, and warped, and depraved.

And I loved it.

_Was he fucking me… or punishing me?_

Itachi seemed displease with the position, however. He pulled out for a brief moment to push me onto my side, rolling me on to my back. From there, he lifted my hips and entered me again, picking up the same fast and merciless pace.

But that look in his eyes, when I stared at them for first time during this intercourse, shattered my idea of this being some meaningless act.

He was smiling, looking at me with those eyes, so bright and alive and warm; completely contrasting to the cold and scornful eyes I thought he wore. No, Itachi was not some heartless executioner, he was my big brother, and to him, we were not doing anything _warped _or _depraved._

Itachi thought we were making love.

And he proved it, when he leant down and kissed me, still thrusting with reckless force. I moaned into his mouth, pressing my tongue against his, tangling with his, sucking it back into my mouth so I could press my lips harshly against his again. His hand began to stroke my cock, as hard and unforgiving as his thrusts.

We both came like that; sweating, him on top of me, fucking me pitilessly into the mattress and pumping my dick while our mouths were stuck to each other's, taking the other's breath in place of real oxygen.

We kept moving until our orgasms had been rode out, then we stopped all motion altogether. Itachi had his hands on either side of my head, his groin pressed against mine and his flaccid member gently touched mine, though we both ignored that for the moment. We laid there panting, collecting our breath and thoughts, until at last Itachi looked at me in the eyes.

And then the whole thing changed; like suddenly we'd taken a step back and looked in the mirror at our actions.

Itachi's eyes went from being content and tired to panicked and appalled. He ripped away from me at lightning speed, throwing his clothes on while I just watched him from my place on the bed. I was too tired and in too much pain to move anyway. My eyes were blank and indifferent; his eyes were anything but.

He couldn't even look at me.

_This is what you deserve._

If I asked him to stay with me, would he stop walking away?

_Fucked and left, this is what you deserve._

If I told him I didn't want to be left alone anymore, with all the things that possess and destroy me, would he stay with me?

_Isn't this what you wanted?_

But I knew better than anyone that Itachi would never stay with me after something like this. His disgust and shame were too blatantly obvious. Even if he could somehow forgive himself, I would forever remain as a reminder of our sin; this sick bond between us that consists of fucking each other over and then leaving, reuniting with hopes that things will be different, then fucking each other over again.

This regret was as bitter as it was sweet, and as reviled as it was coveted.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yes, I know, you all must hate me for not updating this in like, six years. I do sincerely apologize for the wait; I had a lot going on and writing was not my first, second, or even seventeenth priority. That being said, I know you're all going to be pissed, but it's going to be another wait before the next chapter comes (not as long as this wait, I promise). Basically, I'm going away for 4 to 6 weeks, and I won't have any internet access at all. I'm not even allowed to bring my laptop. :/ But, I'll bring lots of paper and manually write out chapters to type up, okay? Oh, and for those of you expecting an update for 'My Obsession, My Possession': SOON! Like, expect that on Monday (the 5th) at the latest. :D


	9. Breaking Point

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Eight – Breaking Point~

* * *

"Sasuke!"

My father's angry voice tore through the house. Fuck. I didn't want to deal with him right now.

_Don't talk to me._

He stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door against the wall as he entered. That's right, Fugaku. Get violent. It's the only thing you know how to do, isn't it?

His cheeks were red, and his eyes were hard. He had a particularly nasty snarl on his face, and the smell of alcohol rolled off him like water. I didn't look into his eyes. I didn't want to be looked at.

_Don't look at me._

"Have you been stealing money from me, boy?"

Oh, so that's what this was all about. Well, at least he had the decency to ask me, this time.

"No, I haven't."

"Well it sure as hell didn't get up and walk away on its own!"

"Did you ask Itachi?"

My father snorted, as if I was an idiot, and turned his head away with a scowl.

"Your brother would never disgrace himself like that."

"And I would?"

My father looked at me again. Fuck, those eyes. His scowl softened, just a bit, but his eyebrows still knit together.

"You're not like your brother, Sasuke."

"No. I'm not."

I returned the glare, much fiercer than his could ever hope to be. We so rarely spoke, that now my father was looking at me like I was some kind of strange, newly discovered animal, like he couldn't make sense out of my actions.

"But you could be, if you tried."

"I don't _want_ to be like Itachi."

My father sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

"Unfortunately so."

Why don't you just say it? I'd rather you admit that you hate who I am than have you pretend to care about me. That was who my father was, though. He would rather pretend to love his delinquent son than openly despise him, so that no one in the outside world would think him a monster and say, "What kind of man doesn't love his own child?"

Oh, but I could tell him something that would _destroy _that proud look in his eyes whenever he thought about Itachi. I could tell him about the other night, what took place below his own roof, what _Itachi _had done. He would never be proud of him again, would never praise him, would never smile and pat him on the back. He wouldn't be able to look at him, _at either of us,_ if he knew. He would close up, drink more alcohol, run away to the back of the house like the snivelling coward he is. _What? My sons aren't perfect? My wife is dead? My job is shit? I'm not man enough for this, no thanks. You deal with it._

_Fuck you too, Dad._

He would drink himself to a comatose, and oh, how sweet it would be, I could sneak into his hospital room at night and pull the plug, and he would just silently slip away, _never and never._

What a beautiful thing, truly. And then it would be just Itachi and I, the two imperfect immoral unlovable sins; the product of alcoholism, drug addiction and an insatiable libido. _I AM HATE! I AM RAPE!_

I closed my eyes. My father sighed. He walked to the fridge, opened the door, cracked a beer. I stood still, silent. He gulped it down like water, crushed the can in his hand and leaned over the sink, presumably in case he puked it back up.

"I'm not Itachi. But I'm not Mom, either."

He stiffened, didn't look at me. His hands clenched the edge of the sink. "What?"

"I'm not taking your shit anymore. You suffocated her with your alcoholic depression and now she's dead. You're not going to do that to me. I won't let you."

"Be _quiet,_" he hissed, his eyes were fire. They burned as he looked at me. His knuckles were white, his face red. His hair had already begun to turn grey.

"No, I won't stay quiet, and let you _strangle _me with this fake fucking façade you call a family."

He struck me then, his fist collided brutally with the side of my head, and I fell to the ground, knocking over a dining chair as I fell. I didn't bother to get up, or even clutch my pounding head. I didn't care. Itachi would have hit back, would have defended himself, would have said _fuck you _and left. I didn't. I just didn't. I stared blankly at the table leg at the end of my nose, and thought, if things were different, if I was a better person, if we were all better people… No. It's so pathetic. Life, people. All of it. It is just so fucking pathetic.

Fugaku stood there, a surprised expression, his clenched fists shaking. He stared. He seemed to be frozen, sober thoughts raced through his foggy drunken mind. _What just happened? _He didn't know, couldn't recall, how one minute he was confronting his youngest son and the next that youngest son was lying motionless on the cold tiled floor.

He turned quickly on his heal and left. I heard the front door slam and his car start in the driveway, but I didn't move until everything was dark and the headache dulled to a buzz.

* * *

It was the early morning, the sky was still dark, when I heard a car park in the driveway. I was lying on my back in my cold, dark room when the door opened and slammed shut, and heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. I turned to lay on my side, away from the door, knowing my father had gone to a bar and that alcohol made people do strange things. The footsteps stopped outside my room. My door opened. He was being surprisingly quiet, considering how intoxicated he must be. _Damn you, why couldn't you crash into a tree on your way home and do us all a favour?_

He was being so silent, standing in my doorway. Did he remember striking me, possibly giving me a concussion? Was he wondering if I was still alive, or if I had died in the same bed as my mother only a short few weeks ago? Taken a bottle of aspirin, chased it down with the voddy I sometimes stole from his stash.

Finally, he moved, his footsteps quieting as he walked down the hall. The closet doors screeched as he opened them, there was rustling, and then his footsteps became louder again. I shut my eyes. He entered my room. My heart began to beat so fast, it ached. He approached the bed. My fists clenched. Then, an unfamiliar pressure spread over me as he draped an old blanket onto my body. His footsteps retreated, I released a quivering breath, and my door quietly shut.

* * *

Itachi hadn't been around much lately. He didn't come home again last night. I knew it was my father who had given me the blanket – his footsteps were too heavy to be Itachi, his breath too hard and his movements too ungraceful. The house had never felt so empty. It was such a tender torture, this loneliness, this empty feeling. Like being caressed with a chewed wire that sent constant electrocution through your body as it gently stroked your skin.

Itachi did come home, a few times. He would shower, change clothes, maybe grab a quick bite to eat and nod a greeting to my father when he was present. We didn't look at or speak to each other, not even once. If one of us entered a room the other already occupied, the air would immediately thicken, and the tension would weigh down on us like clouds made of lead. Even my father, inebriated as he was, noticed the sudden change in us.

"What's with you two? You've been acting very strange lately," he slurred as he spoke, his eyes unfocused, his hand loosely grasped a glass of voddy on ice.

"I've been busy lately, trying to find a job. I think I should get my own place soon. Can't live at home forever,"

I wanted to puke. _Coward. COWARD. Run away like the poor fucking excuse for a man that you are. You stupid goddamn fuck._

"Itachi, I want you to work with me at the company."

Itachi's hands stilled as he was scrubbing a dirty plate in the sink.

"Ever since Orochimaru took over, it hasn't been the same. It might be too late for me, but you have the potential to get our position back. You could be President, just like I was. And things would be much better than they are." he stole a quick glance my way, but it didn't linger. "For all of us."

"I went to school for Criminal Justice. I'm not suited to be President of an esteemed Electronics company."

"You're hell of a lot more suited than that goddamn snake," my father hissed, his eyes steeled. "and half the employees who work there already would agree. Please, son, just think about it."

Hesitant, Itachi nodded, rinsing the last dish and setting it on the drying rack. He wiped his hands on the tea towel and grabbed his coat from the hanger by the door. "I have to go, I have plans. See you later." No words to me, not even a glance, he closed the door almost silently.

I looked up to my father smiling stupidly to himself and scowled. He looked ready to pass out on the floor. _Please God, let him hit his head on his stupid fucking drink and have broken glass shoved into his brain. Just kill him already._

I stood up and left, my father unseeing to all around him, as he stirred in his intoxicated little fantasy world.

* * *

"You've been acting weird lately, dude."

Naruto was staring at me again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. I didn't reply as I slammed my locker shut, closing the lock with one hand.

"Really."

He didn't appreciate my sarcasm, especially not today. He looked restless. Maybe he hasn't been sleeping well recently. It would explain the dark circles beneath his eyes. At first, I thought he was wearing makeup.

"Did something happen? You seem really depressed."

"Yes, Naruto, I have _depression. _People with depression are _depressed. _It's kind of the whole fucking point of the disorder, you ignorant shithead."

Naruto glared. "But you never get _this _depressed unless something really bad happened! And last week you showed up with a huge bruise on the side of your head!" he leaned closer, lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is it your dad?"

I pushed him back and snarled. "I already told you. I ran into a door."

"A door that's shaped like a fist?"

I sighed, irritated. Why wouldn't this idiot just _drop it? _

"My head hit the knob."

"Last week you said it was the coat hanger."

"Look, it doesn't matter, would you just leave it alone already? It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Yes it does! You're my friend!"

Sometimes I wanted to smash this kid's face in until you couldn't even tell he was human. What kind of sadistic retard pesters their chronically depressed friends with stupid questions that only make them feel worse?

"For fuck's sake Naruto. _Leave me alone already._ I don't want to tell you personal shit, and you know why? Because even if something terrible happened to me, and I was really suffering, I would _never _sink so low to confide in _you, _anyway. Sorry, but I'm just not that fucking pathetic. Now stop being a needy little bitch and fuck off before I kick the shit out of you."

Christ, that hurt look. Like I had crushed his last dream. Why was he so goddamn stupid? Why couldn't he just pretend I wasn't suffering like everyone else? I hate this, damn it, Naruto, I hate it when you see _everything I don't want you to see._

_And you never see the things I wave in front of your face._

"You know what Sasuke, maybe you're right. Maybe it _is _pathetic to confide in someone like me, especially for someone like you who is obviously _so _superior. Maybe I am beneath you, for caring, for wanting to help. But you know something, if being a loyal and compassionate friend means I'm beneath you, then I hope you _do _sink to my level someday, because it's pretty fucking obvious that being above me hasn't done shit all to make you happy."

"Happy? Fuck you. I don't even care about being happy anymore. It means nothing to me. Go on back to your _happy little world _and fuck yourself. I don't want anything to do with it. Or with you."

And on that final statement, I turned and left, leaving my former best friend wilted in the hallway.

* * *

"You have quite the stomach for this, you know."

His hand ran up my naked thigh. I slept with him again, this sleazy pedophile. I don't even know what he gave me this time, but fuck, it was good shit. Hashish, I think he called it. He said it was laced. Whatever, it was so potent that it burned, and I loved it. I took another hit, exhaled, resting my head against the back of the couch, exposing my neck. His hand traced circles around my throat, the dark bruises from his mouth, and he grinned.

"I've never met someone as young as you who could stand this much endorphin."

"At least that's one thing I'm good at," I sighed, took another hit, felt my head fill with burning fog and forced a lazy smile. The volcano in the center of the room hot-boxed us, and the smoke washed over my naked body, like the steam from a hot spring. It felt good. Yeah, pleasant. This was nice.

"Two things," Orochimaru corrected, leaning in to nip at my neck and collarbone. I sighed, a blissful sigh, and let him take the hash from me and straddle my hips.

"You can have this back after. I'll even let you take some home, my little pet." he was grinning, licking the side of my face, occasionally biting into the still faintly bruised skin from my father, making me wince.

"Did I tell you, your brother has begun to work for me?" he asked as he pushed two fingers inside me, and I groaned. "Now the only family member left to become my subordinate is _you, _Sasuke-kun." he chuckled, scissoring his fingers. "Though I suppose, if you count this little arrangement right here, you already _are _my subordinate. In a different way."

"Shut up, don't talk about my brother when we're doing this. I don't wanna think about him."

Orochimaru gave me an odd look, but didn't comment. Instead, he added another finger.

"Very well. I suppose we can talk about that after I fuck you senseless. And look how hard you are…"

And so he fucked me, harder than all the other times, but I could not cum until my head filled itself with the memories of that night in Itachi's room. At that moment, the blood drained from my body to my cock, and I came, _hard_, shouting a curse into Orochimaru's greasy, pale chest.

* * *

I stumbled my way home from the bus stop, silently cursing myself and Orochimaru for the way too potent hash that I had smuggled in my pant pockets. My house came into view, and to my surprise, the lights were on downstairs, but the greatest surprise of all was opening the front door to find Itachi sitting at the dining table, looking absolutely miserable, and Naruto sitting across from him, looking absolutely pissed. They both went silent as I entered, and stared at me, as if they'd been waiting a long time. Shit, what time was it? They probably were waiting. It felt like I was gone for days. Was I? I couldn't remember. There were no windows or clocks in _Sound_. Maybe today was actually yesterday, and I had been MIA since that incident with Naruto in the hallway.

"Where have you been?" Itachi didn't sound questioning, he sounded tired, so very tired, as if he was obligated to ask when all he wanted to do was curl up in the darkness somewhere. I know the feeling, brother. Take a number and a seat.

Naruto wanted to shout at me, I could see it in his eyes, clear as day. He was pissed, and hurt. He was tired of waiting but he still was because he was _so fucking stupid. _I wanted to glare, but I was too tired and stoned. I couldn't muster the energy, or the anger.

"Get out." The words were a different story.

"Why didn't you tell me, Sasuke? About your mom."

Oh, fuck me… Itachi, you snitch, you goddamn fucking coward. How could you?

"I already told you, dumbass. It's none of your business. Now get the fuck out."

"Sasuke!" Itachi reprimanded, standing abruptly, "What is the matter with you? He's only trying to help you, why are you acting like this?"

"_SHUT UP!" _I screamed, sober now, furious. My eyes were pitch black, blazing, vehement to the brim. "Don't you dare fucking scold _me, _you spineless fucking coward. I'm not fucking _perfect _like you! I can't _deal _with whiny nagging idiots always asking me 'what's wrong?' when I don't even know the fucking problem! And maybe I didn't want my friends to know that my mother died because of _me, _but you don't care about that, do you? No, as long as your perfect fucking reputation isn't tarnished you don't give half a rat's ass what happens to me, or how many times you have to _step_ on me like the worthless trash you see me as!"

Oh, how he was shrinking now. His whole body wilted, deflated, the depression seeped into his soul and weighed him down, like iron chains around his neck. His expression was so miserable it was almost blank, like the switch in his brain had shut off. Silent as death, he sat back down, staring at the table.

"Sasuke—" Naruto started, I interrupted.

"And _you!" _I stared him in the eyes, "I swear to God, you have got to be the stupidest fucking moron on this whole goddamn _planet! _You really think you're _compassionate? _Why? Because you don't know how to BACK THE FUCK OFF like a normal fucking person? That's not compassion you shithead, that's stubbornness, and the more you pester me about shit I can't even comprehend the more you make me want to shove my head _through a fucking window! _TAKE A HINT! I don't _want to tell you _about my personal life! Especially the stuff that makes me want to off myself! So stop fucking asking! If you actually cared about my _happiness _then you wouldn't _keep doing _the things that make me _want to die!"_

They were both silent. They both couldn't look at me. They both seemed on the edge of tears. Myself, I was exhausted in every way, I just wanted to _sleep _and cave in on myself, but now that I had that weight off my chest, my guard was too low. I couldn't be around them, not like this. They would see me. Pathetic, vulnerable me.

So I turned around in a flawless motion and bolted out the door, not bothering to shut it as I practically sprinted down the street. I could hear Naruto shouting my name, running down the steps behind me, but I didn't bother to see if he was truly following me. Buzzed, exhausted and at the end of my rope, I headed toward downtown, which was a good hour away if I ran, fast. But running excessively was okay with me right now. I didn't mind wasting the energy, and somewhere inside, I hoped it would kill me. End it, God, please, _I can't do this anymore._

* * *

I knew where I was headed; where my legs were taking me. I stumbled past people in the street, desperate, trying as hard as I could to make it there before my heart gave out. _Just one more hit before I die. The high, I need to be high when it happens, please, just let me be high when it happens._

I entered the alley, dingy as it was. The old white door stood out against the black bricks, and I ached for it, to make those last few steps, so that I could beg Orochimaru to drug me to death and throw my body in a lake.

My legs were shaking. Those few steps were almost too much.

"Hey, you!" the shout came from behind, it surprised me. I turned around and stared, still buzzed, at the three ragged men blocking the mouth to the alleyway. They looked pissed, and they advanced.

"Are you Uchiha Sasuke?" a man asked, wrinkling his ugly unshaven face.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

"We want you to get the hell out of here. This is our turf, not yours. You think you can just waltz in here and seduce Orochimaru into letting you be his subordinate? Pretty-faced whores like you got no business messing with our plans, kid. Leave or else we'll make you wish you were never born." And to my surprise, but slight pleasure, he pulled out a switchblade.

"You're going to stab me? Really? Look, you pathetic loser, I'm not interested in being Orochimaru's subordinate or messing with your precious little _plans. _I'm just here for the drugs. If Orochimaru happens to like attractive young men like me more than ugly washed-up thugs like you, well, that's really not my problem. Go take a shower and maybe he'll feel sorry enough for you that he'll give you a good pity fuck."

"You little shit!" the man hissed, and he lunged, shoving me to the ground with one hand while the other held the knife above our heads. "How about I gouge the eyes out of your fucking head, you cocky piece of shit?" And he brought the knife directly below my right eye, as the other two men circled around us with sadistic grins.

"You better get the fuck off of him before I kick the living shit out of you, asshole!" The four of us turned to the mouth of the alleyway, and I felt the blood leave my body and my heart fall into my stomach, as I met Naruto's raging cerulean eyes.

**

* * *

Author's Note: **Chapter is late, and short, and poorly written. I'm so sorry. It's… quarter to five in the morning, so please forgive my blatant errors. I'm too tired to edit it thoroughly and I promised a friend it'd be uploaded when she woke up. Ugh… When I'm tired I tend to be a bit dark, does it show? Lol, I tried to be humorous, but it came out as morbid, dark humor... anyways, thank you for reading guys, the next chapter of My Obsession, My Possession is almost done. *yawns* I'mma go sleeps now. Night-night.

P.S. In case you were unaware, 'voddy' is slang for vodka and a 'volcano' is basically a pyramid-shaped device that turns marijuana into second-hand smoke and hot-boxes whatever room it's in. Yeah. Don't ask how I know that.


	10. Rewind the Bird at the Window

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Nine – Rewind the Bird at the Window~

* * *

There was something about fighting alongside Naruto that always made my blood rush inside my veins.

We were opposites in every way, but in a fight, we were connected in a way that neither of us could explain. It was like we were communicating by the tension in the air, the blood and sweat, the ragged breaths—somehow we knew what the other was thinking, and we used this telepathic correlation to heighten each other's senses so that we were an unstable tag-team of rabid destruction.

I could _feel _when he took a bad hit, or when he landed a good punch, or when he was planning some sort of strategy against his opponent. On the battlefield, I knew what he was thinking, and I could compliment his movements with my own. That's why I felt no anxiety watching him pummel the three thugs who had cornered me. He wasn't winning. But still, just watching him fight made my blood run wild, and I couldn't wait another moment before jumping in.

I assaulted the man on the left, digging my fist into the side of his face. His jawbone bruised my knuckles, but I was satisfied watching his head snap backwards exposing his grungy neck. Stunned as he was for the moment, I planted my heel into his gut and sent him flying backwards. He slammed against the concrete wall and gasped, clutching his midsection, and let out a long groan of agony as his head rolled from side to side and he convulsed.

I turned towards Naruto. He was being overwhelmed by the other two men—one had the knife out, and was waving it in front of his face to seem intimidating. Naruto didn't seem scared. He kept his fists up, glaring heatedly, daring the two men to take him on at once. I looked around quickly for a weapon, and saw a pile of abandoned junk near the dumpster. There was a small pile of orange bricks, and next to that there was a mouldy cardboard box with a slimy steel pipe sticking out from it. I made a beeline for it and held on to it as best I could with my sweaty palms. It felt good having a weapon in my hands. Empowering.

I dashed towards the two men. The one who was empty-handed bent his knees—obviously about to pounce at Naruto. I swung the pipe, and struck him in the ribs. He cried out in pain, turned quickly to face me, and I struck again, bashing the jaded edge into the side of his head. He staggered, clutching his skull and moaning, obviously too disoriented to stay upright. He collided against the alleyway's wall and stood hunched over, groaning over and over again.

Naruto took his chance to assault the knife-wielding man. He kicked his shin, narrowly avoiding the jab aimed at his throat. He closed his fist and hit the man in his lower stomach, then uppercut him in the chin and punched again below his left eye. The man didn't seem too phased. He quickly delivered three brutal punches to Naruto's face, cracking his lip open and making blood spill from his nose.

Naruto had no other chance to attack. The man swung his knife wildly towards him, intent on slicing him to pieces—and Naruto was unable to avoid it all the time. Cuts ripped his clothes in several places; drops of blood stained the fabric and began to mix with the sweat on his skin. I dropped the pipe and jumped forward to help him, grabbing the man's wrist attempting to twist the knife from his grasp. He spun around and landed a blow right between my eyes, forcing my head to snap back. I tightened my grip on his arm. He let loose two more punches, to my face and then my neck, brutally injuring my windpipe and causing me to gasp in violent spasms. It hurt to breathe, but I held on as best I could. Naruto was on the man's back in an instant, pummelling his fist into his spinal cord in swift repetition.

The first man I had wounded found his way to his feet, and quickly rejoined the fight. He pulled Naruto away from the other guy by the collar of his shirt, dealing soft punches to his already injured face. Naruto kicked and struggled in the man's hold, trying to shield his face from the painful onslaught. The man was unforgiving and held on tight.

After another fierce blow to my face, I finally released the knife-wielding man. He rebounded by swinging the knife towards me, barely slicing the skin on my forehead. Blood trickled down my face and into my eyes, but I couldn't risk wiping it away and giving him an opportunity to attack me blinded.

I flung myself towards him. We exchanged punches; all the while I did my best to avoid his stabbing-frenzy. Like Naruto, I couldn't avoid every single one. My arms and face were cut up pretty bad.

Then a familiar voice cried out in pain, and I took a moment to glance in Naruto's direction. The man had him on the ground, and was stomping repeatedly on his head and back. Naruto was on his stomach, trying to cover the back of his head with his arms, but his hands were badly injured from the thug's heavy boots slamming into them.

Angrily, I hurled myself in their direction, body-slamming into the man and knocking us both to the ground. We struggled against the cement, clawing at each other's bodies while trying to pin the other and deliver painful strikes all at once. The man was bigger and stronger, and had me pinned, holding me by the throat and beating my face with his dirty fist. Naruto leapt onto his back and wrapped his arms around his neck, choking him until he released me, then he loosened his grip and the man spun around trying to pummel Naruto in return.

_You could never forgive me… and if you could, then I could never forgive myself._

I struggled to stay awake as I lay crumpled on the ground. I had received several blows to the head, and my vision was blurry. Blood seeped into my eyes and made them sting, and my throat bruised and ached as I struggled to breathe. I looked up dejectedly to watch Naruto and the man beat the shit out of each other, each trying to pin the other to the ground.

_(If I ever annoyed you with all my pestering, it was only because I was worried about you, teme.)_

Forcing myself to my knees, I inhaled a few shaky breaths, keeping my head down to save myself the pain of looking into any light. My head throbbed worse than it ever had. I told myself to get up; to stop sitting there like a weakling and help my friend, but my body was in so much pain. _Just a minute more_, I thought, _just another minute to regain my breath, and then I'll get up._

_I never asked you to help me. I wish you hadn't. I wish I never met you._

It hurt. I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was about to pass out, and then I heard a yelp of pain followed by a resounding thud. I looked up. The man Naruto had been fighting lay unconscious ground. Naruto stood above him, panting for breath, completely bruised and beat up much worse than I was. His fists were still clenched, as he glared forlornly at the crumpled heap on the ground below him. He raised his eyes, and we saw each other fully. He was still gasping, and then he let out a trembling laugh and smiled. He was such a loser. But in spite of myself, I smiled back. I was ready to go home. I wasn't upset anymore. Because now I could recognize, that no matter how annoying he is, no matter how much of a loser he is, he'll still be there when it really counts. He cared, and that's what mattered.

_(Even if you're not, I'm glad I met you. I'm glad we became friends. I always knew you really cared, deep down.)_

He was still laughing, though it sounded more like he was gasping for breath. But the stupid grin gave him away. I pulled myself up, but a sharp pain in the back of my head made me fall back onto my knees. I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and looked up at the smiling Naruto.

_You would've been better off without me. Stupid. Stupid goddamn fool. You would've been…_

And then I saw it. It was like a flash; like a bird flying past the window. You only know what you're looking at after you've seen it. It was so fast, I didn't understand it. It wasn't even a possibility in my mind.

"NARUTO!"

His grin faltered, and he gave me a confused look. He opened his mouth. He was about to ask me what was wrong. He was about to speak. _God damn it let him speak…_

The man with the knife was behind him before he ever got the chance. He never saw it coming. But I did. _The bird flying past the window. _I saw the faltering grin. I saw the man raise his hands above Naruto's head. I saw the copper-coloured brick, the evil smirk. I saw it all.

_(You don't need to be sorry.)_

The man brought his hands down and it was quick. He smashed the brick into the back of Naruto's head, who barely made a sound as he fell face forward. I watched as the confused, pleasant expression slipped from my best friend's face, replaced by a hollow look, like the face of corpse killed in sudden attack.

Naruto's limp body hit the ground. Five seconds passed. There was no movement. Ten seconds. Still, nothing, not even the twitch of a hair. A minute went by, and Naruto didn't move or make a sound. Nothing. He just kept _lying there. _Like he was dead. But of course he wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Not now, not like this, not _because of me again please God hit the rewind button…_

I didn't move; I could not. I just sat there, helpless, silent, waiting. Waiting for him to _move_. Waiting for him to raise his stupid blonde head and grin, turn around and kick that guy's ass. Then he'd laugh like the stupid moron he is, and we'd go home, and let Jiraiya yell at us while handing as the first aid kit. That's how it should go. That's how it _always _went. _Why wouldn't he move?_

"Na…" I attempted to stand, but my legs wouldn't move. My head still throbbed in pain. "Na… ruto…"

One of the men slammed his foot into the side of my head, and that was it for me. My head hurt too much already. My body collided mercilessly with the cold, hard concrete, and my vision went black. I couldn't move at all. I tried to move. I had to help Naruto. I had to _get up. _But I couldn't. It was all black. Black, silent, and unmoving. Just like Naruto.

A voice severed the black haze, but it was fuzzy. My consciousness was slipping…

"Is he dead?"

I tried to move my hand. Nothing. Or maybe it did move, and I just couldn't feel it. My whole body went numb.

"Who knows…" There were voices. Footsteps. Hushed laughter. "Let's get out of here."

The noises faded, and I was left in blackness. Only a few seconds past until my consciousness faded as well.

* * *

Everything was white. It burned, like staring into the sun after being blindfolded in the dark.

My body hurt. Everything hurt. I only saw white, but I felt many things. Aching muscles, throbbing head. I could hear sirens. My hands. I tried to move them, but it hurt too much, so I gave up on that.

There was something heavy on me. I tried to look at it, but moving my head, or even my gaze, was as painful as jamming a screwdriver through my eye sockets. I gave up on that too. I closed my eyes, welcoming the black.

Unrecognizable sounds. Beeping, shuffling. The only sound I recognized was my own breathing, loud and ragged as it was. I inhaled. Unfamiliar scents.

I exhaled. Warm breath hit my face. Something was touching me, around my mouth. It was humid. Uncomfortable.

_Foreign._

And then, there was a touch. A familiar touch. A cold hand—_felt so good, on my burning skin_—touched my forehead. I inhaled. Unfamiliar scent again. The hand moved a little, caressing me, wiping the bangs from my sweaty skin. I tried to open my eyes, I tried to thank the hand for providing comfort, but no sound or movement came from me. The blackness swelled, and extinguished my consciousness again.

* * *

The white again.

The pain was still there, but it was dulled. I could move, though my body was heavy and drugged and sluggish. I started with my gaze, shifting it left and right. I saw things. Colours, shapes. Objects. Two windows, with curtains. A door. A chair. White walls, white ceiling. No pictures on the wall.

I didn't feel as hot this time, but my head continued to pound. I looked down at my body, and saw a thin green blanket draped on me. Why did it feel so heavy? I wanted it off.

This wasn't my room. This wasn't my bed, or my blanket. There was a needle in my arm. I didn't own any needles.

This bed was uncomfortable. Better than cold cement.

These weren't my clothes. They were itchy. Better than being naked.

I moved my hand and felt my fingers twitch. It sent a jolt of pain straight into my head, igniting my migraine. I groaned.

"Are you all right?"

A deep voice. I looked to my left, and was blinded by the light from the window. Was that… tanned skin? Blonde hair?

"Naruto?" My voice was nothing but a rough whisper.

The figure stepped closer, out of the light. The illusion of tanned skin and blonde hair faded. He was tall. Pale skin. Black hair. Black eyes.

"Naruto is… in another room. We're at the hospital, Sasuke." He approached the bed; put a cool hand on my burning forehead. Warm breath touched my face. Familiarity.

For some reason, my mind told me I was angry with him. Why—what had he done? I couldn't remember. But I wanted him to stay. He was familiar. He was comfort.

"Itachi…" A hushed whisper. My breath touched his lips. He was so close, leaning over me. He might as well just climb right into bed with me…

"Naruto is… alive…?" I asked, eyes closed. I leaned my head back, letting him caress my face. His cool hand felt so good…

He didn't say anything.

"How long have I been here…?" I was speaking so slowly. I wish I could at least speak normally, considering I could hardly move.

"It hasn't even been a full day," Itachi said.

"When are we… going home…?" I asked, feeling suddenly very tired. I let a small yawn escape, wishing I had the strength to lift my hand and cover my mouth.

"Not for a while, Sasuke. You're in pretty bad shape. You have a concussion."

"Mmm…" I yawned again, my voice getting quieter as I sunk my head into the pillow. "Okay…"

He placed a warm kiss on my forehead, petted my hair. "Sleep now, little brother. I'll come see you again when you're awake."

He stepped away, and all the comfort and familiarity vanished. I tried to reach out to him, but my hands were frozen, and my voice was gone. And then he left.

Falling asleep was more pleasant, this time.

* * *

It had been two days.

I slept through most of it. The nurses said I was healing quickly, and that I would be able to go home in another day or two.

Itachi came to visit a lot. Apparently Sakura had tried too, but she always came when I was asleep so they never let her in. Naruto must've been happy to see her.

Nobody would tell me how Naruto was doing. I asked the nurses, but they all gave me this pained face, like they would be brutally punished if they spoke. So they avoided the question and left me wondering. When I asked Itachi, he would grab my hand and squeeze it, look me in the eyes, and tell me to just focus on getting better. I was frustrated with all of them. Was he okay, or wasn't he? It was a simple question. I wanted an answer. I needed to _know._

I looked away from the white ceiling as the door opened and shut. Itachi walked over with a brown paper bag in his hands that he set on the bedside table. He smiled at me, pulling the chair up to the bed where he sat.

"I know you dislike the hospital food, so I brought you some rice balls from the little café across the street. It's nothing fancy, so I hope you don't mind. Are you hungry?"

I shook my head, but thanked him anyway and told him I would eat it later. He smiled, leaning over onto the bed, and touched my forehead again. I leaned into the touch. It had become the only thing I didn't dread in this place.

"Itachi…" I opened my eyes. I never realized I'd closed them. "Tell me how Naruto is."

His hand stilled, his expression became grave. He moved to grab my hand, but I quickly pulled it out of his reach.

"No, Itachi. No more of this bullshit. I have the right to know what the hell is going on. Now tell me!"

"Sasuke…"

"_Tell me!_"

I didn't mean to shout, but I was so fed up. Not knowing was the worst thing. Wondering, being afraid. My mind was filled with macabre images that needed to be washed away. This insatiable desire to know was taking over me.

Itachi sighed, and withdrew himself from me, leaning back in his chair. "I will after you tell me what happened."

I clenched my teeth and glared. "I already told you. We were mugged by three other guys but we fought back, and it got really out of control."

"And what exactly were you doing at the end of an alleyway in the grossest part of the city?"

I shrugged, tired of the game. "Exploring?"

Itachi closed his eyes and sighed. "Sasuke… the couple who called the ambulance live across from where you guys were fighting. They said that they recognized you as someone who comes there a lot, but that they'd never seen Naruto before. Why do you spend so much time in a place like that?"

Fuck.

"I go by there walking home from school."

Itachi's eyes narrowed. "Your school is in the complete opposite direction."

"I like detours, okay? Fuck, Itachi, would you just shut up and tell me if Naruto is all right?"

He didn't budge. He was staring at me with cold, sceptical eyes. I could feel his mistrust. His disappointment. I felt sick.

I sighed, lowering my gaze despondently. I whispered, "Please…" hoping he'd listen. "Please, Itachi…"

His glare fell away, and he crossed his arms, staring at the floor. He closed his eyes, and in that moment his posture and expression completely resembled our father.

"Naruto is in a coma."

I looked up at him. He didn't move or change. I stared. I waited. Five seconds. Ten seconds. "And…?"

Itachi opened his eyes. He looked at me.

"And they don't think he's ever going to wake up. His skull was badly fractured. If he does wake up, he'll be completely paralyzed or worse. That's why Jiraiya has decided… to pull the plug."

**

* * *

Author's Note: **To those of you who have expressed that this fanfiction is particularly disheartening: Have your tissues reading for next chapter. I have full intentions to make it the saddest chapter in the story. Thank you for reading.


	11. The Guilt and the Guillotine

Thicker Than Blood

~Chapter Ten – The Guilt and the Guillotine~

* * *

And that was how Naruto died.

I'd asked the nurses to let me see him, just once, before they pulled the plug, but they wouldn't allow it. Their high-and-mighty doctor with his PhD, suburban family and perfectly-cut-green-grass lawn said it would cause more problems than it would solve. I never got to say goodbye, and they cut the life support later that day.

I never got the chance to say goodbye.

If I hadn't been so overrun with the suddenness of it, I probably would have _done _something—something more expected, like thrown a tantrum, or demanded to see him, or waited until no one was looking and go searching for his hospital room. But I never did anything like that. I just sat there, in my bed, face stoic and muscles tense, staring through an open window, white curtains billowing in the soft breeze.

I never got to apologize.

Two days, they said, till the funeral. I saw Jiraiya once when the nurses left my door slightly open, and never—in all the years I'd known him—had the man looked so old. For the first time, he actually looked almost sixty, instead of his early forties. But I suppose grief has the power to do that to people. After my mother died, I was constantly being mistaken for someone Itachi's age, though I had never felt more like a child.

Jiraiya had briefly glanced through the slightly ajar door and caught eyes with me. His eyes glazed over, the muscles in his face grew tight and it seemed that for a complete second he stopped paying attention to the nurse altogether. We stared at each other, exchanging silent profanities, until at last we came to an agreement _(we both wish it had been me instead) _and he looked away, silently following the nurse down the hallway and out of view.

When Itachi came, he brought food and sometimes magazines he thought I would like, and when I refused to even glance at them he would sit next to the bed and leaf through them, reading aloud particular articles he thought would interest me. I pretended like I was annoyed by his presence and his kindness, but the truth was his visits were the only thing keeping me "alive" in this hospital; I would gladly have become a vegetable like Naruto, and let my mind follow him far beyond all existence.

"You get to come home tomorrow," Itachi said, eyes glued to a magazine's page. For a moment I worried that he would ask if I was excited; I knew I wouldn't be able to calmly reply to a question like that. Itachi seemed to know this, so he didn't say anything more even when I blatantly refused to reply to him.

"I'm going to fail this year," I said, not really caring about anything at this point—especially my grades at school—but I felt like I owed Itachi something, a conversation at least. There wasn't much of anything else I could give him.

"No you won't," he smiled, that charming, gentle smile, "I'll help you catch up. I've been keeping in touch with your school—your counsellor cares about you a lot, you know that?—and they've been sending home all the work you've been missing. When you feel better, we'll go over it together, okay?" he smiled again.

_When you feel better. _As if he really believed I ever would.

Maybe he was just trying to be optimistic and supportive, I don't know. But I hated the certainty in his voice. It wasn't fair. How could someone, _any_one, in this whole damn Earth be so assured of anything when I couldn't be sure of even one damn thing? I had no absolutes, even my suicidal desires were flimsy.

Dad came by later to pick Itachi up and bring a change of clothes, and I noticed that he—for once, somehow—didn't smell like alcohol and cigarette smoke. That was a good thing, wasn't it? But I didn't like it, it was one more thing to get used to—one more change to deal with.

When the two of them left I slowly drifted off into a light sleep; something the hospital here had recently gifted me with. The tight feeling in my chest never went away. I dreamt of Naruto's grinning face, slowly changing into a confused look—then, the hit—the expression leaving—life bleeding out—dead eyes. Darkness.

I jolted awake in my bed, cold sweat covered my body, my hands trembled. I brought my knees to my chest and sobbed, as quietly as I could muster; I didn't want the nurses barging in here, questioning me.

I didn't get the chance to thank him.

* * *

When I came home, it wasn't much different from being at the hospital, except that the rooms were familiar and the bed was more comfortable. Also, the ability to fall into that nightmare-infested half-sleep disappeared damn near instantly. Itachi still waited on me, bringing me meals and things to do. He tried to convince me to start my schoolwork, but I wouldn't have it. With Naruto's funeral the next day, school was one more thing I had to deal with and had no energy for.

Jiraiya had chosen cremation. I was silently grateful; it was better that way, suited Naruto more. The ashes could be spread in some of his favourite places, scattered by the wind. Jiraiya could keep some with him and hold them sacred, and the rest, like Naruto, could be taken any and everywhere. It was an end he would've approved of.

I didn't ask Jiraiya for some ashes. Sakura didn't either, but I have a feeling he would have given her some—Naruto spoke about Sakura like she was the sun and moon to him. I think even Jiraiya could tell that he loved her fiercely.

At the funeral, most of the entire school showed up—which made me feel worse than it should have. I should have been happy, proud even, that Naruto was so beloved by the people around him, but I couldn't help it. Everyone stared at me. They knew. They all _knew _Naruto had fought and died for me (there were rumors going around, that I had been the one to hit him with a brick; that it was he and I who were fighting each other) and their stares ranged from cold and hateful to worried and confused and astonished. I could tell some people were angry to see me there, but fuck them, Naruto was _my _best friend and I was the last one to see him truly alive. Being here was my right.

That self-confidence didn't last long. It was my pride talking more than anything.

Jiraiya never, not once through the whole ceremony, spared me even a glance. I was grateful more than I was hurt. Sakura tried to make conversation, but it was awkward and painful for both of us and she gave up, not knowing quite how she felt about standing next to the person who got one of her best friends killed. Nevertheless, she sat next to me the whole time as people went up to speak about the blonde they knew and loved and missed. By the end of it, everyone was in tears, make-up and snot running down their faces.

I refused to cry in front of them, but I knew that later, alone with all my walls torn down, I would cry until the fluid was drained from my body and I died of dehydration. That was wishful thinking more than anything.

After Iruka had given his eulogy (his made everyone cry the hardest) he walked down the aisle amidst the rows of chairs and stopped next to mine, trying to force a friendly smile onto his red, wet face.

"Do you want to go up there and say something, Sasuke?" he asked quietly, like he was stepping on eggshells.

I thought about it for a moment—_really_ thought about it. How would all these hateful people feel if I went up there, face bone-dry and voice steady, and boldly admitted that I was the reason they would never see him again? I pictured their tormented faces; Kiba standing up and shouting for me to get out of here, Sakura sobbing into her hands. I wouldn't even bother to make eye contact—I'd just keep talking, low and steady, "It was me, it was my fault. He was an idiot, but a good idiot, and now he's dead and you have me to thank. So go ahead. Thank me."

Oh, how good it would feel, to have someone like Kiba run onto the stage and punch me square in the face, cursing me out, the audience's mournful, enraged screaming in the background. It would be so liberating, so nice to _finally _feel like I had paid for it, that I didn't have to carry this guilt around anymore, that I could forgive myself.

But I was a coward and I told Iruka no, I don't want to go up there. I would rather sit in my seat and hold back tears, imagining myself being physically beaten to counteract the self-loathing, dreaming of freedom and relief.

* * *

It was a couple days after the funeral when I had made a decision.

I wanted those thugs to pay for what they had done.

That didn't mean I stopped blaming myself. I wanted to pay as well. But first, I had to get even with them—with the man who delivered the near-fatal blow. I wanted to reach down inside him and slowly rip out everything I could touch, show it to him, make him watch as I incinerated it.

I didn't know where to find them, but I had a clue. They'd mentioned Orochimaru, hadn't they? They said they didn't like me hanging around, being his favourite. They wanted me out of the picture. If they knew him, he most likely knew them twice as well—he was creepy like that.

I stepped off the bus and began the over half-an-hour walk through the slums to the shithole that was Sound. Itachi had no idea I was here—he'd been gone to the store, I asked him to pick up some painkillers for me. He would be livid when he returned and found me missing, but that didn't matter at the moment. All I cared about was finding those thugs. The switchblade in my pocket soothed the rising anxiety in my chest.

The bouncer let me in without need for the password. Every one of the goons hired to guard the door knew me by now well enough to trust me, afraid of what Orochimaru might do to them if they turn me away and rob him of a nice fuck.

When I brazenly stepped into his little office, he didn't even bother looking up from the documents spread across his desk. I shut the door with a little more force than necessary and walked with heavy feet towards where he sat, obviously ignoring me. I stood in front him, peeved that he refused to acknowledge me, and when his hand reached for the little cup of pens I knocked it off the desk and it smacked against the wall, spraying pens everywhere.

He blinked once with annoyance and finally raised his eyes to meet mine, lips thin with displeasure. "Sasuke-kun," he greeted, opening a drawer to pull out an extra pen. "What can I do for you?"

I glared in response and leaned further over the edge of the desk. "Cut the shit, Orochimaru." I hissed, resisting the urge to snatch those documents up and shred them with my bare hands. "You know goddamn well why I'm here."

"It's about your little friend, yes?" he asked, tapping the pen against a piece of scrap paper to make the ink flow. "The blonde one?"

"I want to know who." I said, straightening my back, just a little. "I know you know."

"And what do you intend to do if I tell you, hm?" he replied, his voice dipped in a mocking tone, his gaze raised a little to give me a teasing stare.

"I want revenge."

He guffawed aloud as if I had told him a great joke and then straightened himself in his seat, no longer interested in his paperwork. He stared me hard in the eyes and said, "Really, Sasuke-kun. I thought you were smarter than that. Leave it alone. Even if you had the bloodlust—which, believe me, you don't—you would never stand a chance in a fight with them by yourself."

I narrowed my eyes into a lethal glare, hands clenched into tight fists. "How do you know?"

He shrugged and picked up his pen again, absentmindedly twirling it in his fingers. "I saw the way you fought them before. If it wasn't for your little friend, you'd be dead. And even with the two of you working together, you lost." he met my gaze again. "You're much too weak."

My teeth grit together hard enough to make the muscles at the back of my neck twitch.

"You were _watching?_" I asked, incredulous, infuriated. "Why the fuck didn't you do something? You could have _stopped _them!" I shouted, slamming my hands against the desktop. His expression didn't change, it stayed the same mixture of amused and disdainful.

"Why would I? It's not my problem."

The next thing I knew, I had thrown my fist in his face, aiming right for that damn teasing smirk. He caught my wrist, stood up, and I swung the other, planting my foot on the edge of the desk to heave myself up, and with both our hands full and my body at higher level I thrust my leg forward and struck the heel of my foot into his chest.

He didn't make a sound as he staggered backwards a few feet, a hand resting where I had kicked him. I jumped down off the desk and stood in front of him, glaring up defiantly.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here."

He chuckled, low and unaffected by everything I said _(I hate that the most about him) _and straightened himself once more, wiping the wrinkles out of his shirt. "You say that like you believe you really could."

"I _can,_" I hissed, glare darkening. "I'm armed, unpredictable and extremely pissed off. Nothing is going to stop me from getting my revenge."

"Wrong, Sasuke-kun," he said, taking a step towards me. I faltered. I wanted to step back. But I didn't. "You could have a loaded gun pointed at the man who killed your friend and you wouldn't pull the trigger. That's because, really, you fear that the thing you're shooting at is yourself. No man can kill another without the resolve to fire at his own reflection." and he smiled, that sick, falsely sweet smile. "You are much too weak for this path of vengeance."

"I am _not!_" I hollered, lunging at him again. He was ready this time. He grabbed my wrists and the back of my neck, swung me around and slammed me down on the desk, the corner digging into my stomach and knocking the wind out of me, leaving me struggling for breath. I groaned and pulled to free my wrists, but his grip tightened. He pinned me harder to the desk, leaning over the back of me.

"There is nothing you can do, boy." he said cruelly, knowing his words would strike all the right wounds. "You failed to protect your friend, and now you must live with the guilt. Hate yourself. That is your punishment for being weak."

"No!"

"You can try and take your life, but you'll never be able to do it. You're a scared, weak little boy and that's why you have to suffer like this. This is nothing less than what you _deserve._"

"No, I'm not—"

"But you already know all this, don't you? That's the real reason why you came to me. You want to be punished."

"You're wrong—!"

"You want someone else to hurt you so you can be entitled to a bit of relief. But that's not how punishment works, Sasuke-kun. Why don't you ever learn? This is where your stubborn selfishness has brought you."

"Shut up… shut _up!_"

"And you know something else?" he grinned and lowered himself so that his mouth was right next to my ear, and he whispered, "Nothing I could do to you would ever be enough to erase what you've done."

_You're a killer._

I didn't say anything back. I didn't have anything to say. What was left unsaid? Nothing, now that he had spilled my darkest thoughts all over the floor, and then repeatedly stepped on them.

I shivered in his hands, regretting that I ever left the house at all—no, I've been regretting everything all along, haven't I? Let's just add this mistake to my impossibly long list.

He began running his hands all over me and I trembled, not even enough strength left in me to bite my lip or clench my fists. There was no fight left. Orochimaru's words had imbedded themselves into my open wounds, released their poison, become infected… ill and dying. That's what it felt like. Not Naruto, sitting there in that hospital bed, too brain damaged to even feel pain. Not Naruto burnt to ashes and then scattered in the mud. Not Naruto, dead dead dead _dead._

"What a pathetic thing you are," he said, unbuckling the belt around my waist. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you aren't worth all the trouble you bring, Sasuke-kun."

I pressed my face against the desk and closed my eyes. This was the first time he would… without any drugs. I couldn't quite remember what the sex felt like. Did it hurt? I think so. Did I hate it? I hope so.

He made a sound like he was pondering over something complicated, then I could hear the sounds of a drawer opening and paper rustling. A plastic bag crinkled and then something light hit the desk next to my head. I swivelled my neck to look at it; a small ziplock bag of white powder. Orochimaru let go of my wrists, keeping his hands near my hips as he continued undressing us both. "Take that," he said, "I don't want you crying all over my desk and ruining my paperwork."

* * *

He let me take the rest of the bag home.

I don't remember getting home, nor do I remember what Itachi said when he saw me high off my rocker and stumbling around like a drunk. I think I started crying when I saw him. But the memory is too foggy.

That night, I think I dreamt of Itachi… kissing me. And Itachi crying. And Itachi holding me against his chest and rocking, and caressing my shirtless chest. I told him I was scared, and that I hated myself.

In the dream he didn't know what to say. If only I could tell him all those things I said in real life.

_Please… tell me I'm going to be okay._

After crying my heart out I clung to his shirt and begged him to forgive me. I wanted to be forgiven, by someone, for even one damn thing. I wanted the burden to lessen; the weight to shift, just a little bit. I wanted clemency I didn't deserve. Orochimaru was right; it was my selfishness that had gotten me into this mess in the first place, and now I was just being selfish all over again, my terrible pathetic weak self…

The dream carried on, with Itachi whispering soothing things into my hair, cuddling me. I didn't stop crying for hours, the high never went away—what did Orochimaru give me this time? It sure caused some fucked up dreams.

The most memorable part of the dream was when I sobbed and said, "I can't take it, Itachi. I hate myself _so fucking much._ I can't live like this. Nothing I do is right. Nothing I do can change what I've done, I can't make anything better."

His arms tightened around me. I sobbed. "I hate myself so much I can't even _breathe…_"

That's when he started rocking gently, waiting for me to continue, to say more. But I didn't. I had no more to confess.

He started stroking my hair and then he said, in a voice I'd never heard, "Please… _please, _Sasuke… don't hate yourself. Nothing that's happened has been your fault. Listen to me. Are you listening? You haven't done anything wrong."

He kissed my hair, tightened his arms.

"I love you. Do you hear me? I love you more than everything else in this world. I love all of who you are. So please, for me, don't hate yourself. Don't hate the person I love most."

I can't help it, I told him, I've ruined every good thing in my life. And there's no turning back, no way to rewrite my wrongs.

"The beautiful thing about life, Sasuke," he said quietly, "is that, no matter how badly we screw up today, it will always become yesterday, and tomorrow will always be a chance to atone."

"Not for him," I said shakily, through my tears. "There's no today or tomorrow or even yesterday for Naruto. There's _nothing._"

"Trust me," he whispered and planted a kiss on my forehead. "Naruto-kun isn't suffering. It's all right, Sasuke."

I snuggled closer into his chest and released a breathless sigh. He moved his hands to my cheeks, tilted my face upwards and looked me gently in the eyes. We were silent for a moment, then he said, "The only person who still has to forgive you… is _you, _Sasuke. You're the only one left."

Then he leaned in and kissed me on the lips, pulling me closer in his arms, his hands gently woven in my hair.

The next morning as I dumbly searched my fragmented memories of the night before, I remember bitterly saying to myself how much I wished it hadn't all been a dream.

* * *

Itachi wasn't home and I hadn't gone to school. I wasn't ready to face the other kids just yet.

As I sat on the couch with my knees drawn to my chest, there was a loud knock on the door. I wanted to ignore it, but it was persistent and I could already feel a migraine crawling up my spine. Begrudgingly I trudged over to the door and pulled it open, shocked to see Suigetsu standing on the other side with a big stupid grin on his face.

"Yo, Sasuke! It's been a while." I glared at him. He was the last person I wanted to see.

"What do you want?"

He pouted and reached into his back pocket, his face twisting into the same grin when he pulled out a little bag and held it in front of my face. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously and he laughed a little then handed me the bag. I hesitantly accepted it.

"What is it?"

He smirked. "The good stuff. You're almost out, right?"

I was shocked, and I'm sure he could see that written plainly on my face. How did he know that I'd still been consuming the drugs Orochimaru gave me days before? It unnerved me that he showed up with drugs just as I had been worrying about running out.

"What's in it for you?" I said suspiciously, nonetheless stuffing the bag into the big pocket of my hooded sweater.

He shrugged and turned to leave, stepping off the porch in large, stringy steps. "Wasn't my idea man, Orochimaru told me to deliver it."

He didn't turn around again when he added "see you at school—maybe" as a farewell and I'm glad—the last thing I wanted was for anyone to see my stupidly blank face and tear-filled eyes.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter isn't even that long and yet it took _forever _to write! Where's the logic? As always guys, thanks for reading, favoriting, reviewing, and all that good stuff, your support means everything to me. :)


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